On the Reservation

I'm all about language. I believe in embedding language lessons in everything, including math class. I like to stick idioms into my instruction every so often in order to expose my students to the wide world of words.

For example, on Friday I was teaching fractions, decimals and percentages. I teach all three in one unit, because they are related. "We're going to kill three birds with one stone," I explain, proud of my ability to toss this idiom into a fractions lesson. I am brilliant.

But my rapt audience is not impressed. "You're mean!" they exclaim.

"You want to kill birds?!"

"They didn't do anything to you!"

I was dumbstruck. I wasn't sure if my students, most of whom have learning disabilities, were teasing me. But before I had a chance to explain myself, one of my students with mental retardation piped up, " What if we just put them in a box and stick the box in a dark place? Then you won't have to kill them."

Everyone thought it was a very wise idea. My assistant and I just looked at each other, ready to crack up (and I was ready to cry. We have so much to learn...). I tried explaining what the idiom meant, but my audience of 13- and 14-year-olds was apparenty too hurt to budge on the issue. So I agreed it would be nicer to put the birds in a dark place rather than stoning them to death. Then we decided to change the idiom to "baking three pies in one oven." PETA would be proud.

Posted by Jessica Shyu at 4:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

If Special Ed teachers are drama queens as my professor at Western New Mexico University claims, then teaching is the ultimate form of improv.

For example, when a seventh grade student in inclusion math asked me what prime numbers were, I hadn't prepared a lesson to teach him. How do you really explain prime numbers, other than the fact that it is a number divisible only by 1 and itself? His eyes were glazing over. So I quickly changed course to the best way I understood prime numbers.

"Prime numbers are anti-social."

Huh?

"Do you know what anti-social means?"

"Anti-social is how we sometimes describe people who don't like to hang out with others. Sometimes this is the person who sits away from everyone in class or at an event, and they're scowling, and they don't want to be there. This is a person maybe who stays at home everyday, refusing to go out because they don't want to see anyone except themselves."

His eyes perk up. He knows what I'm talking about. Boys around him lean in to hear how Ms. Shyu's description of the anti-social ties to middle school math.

"Prime numbers are anti-social. They only chill with themselves. And 1. Everyone likes 1."

Here comes a demonstration of figuring out if 13 is a prime number. Oohs and aahs ensue.

"You, son, are a composite number. Composite numbers like to hang out with themselves, and 1, but also with lots of other numbers. Composite numbers are social. They have lots of friends."

Guffawing begins. He figures out on his own that 12 is a composite number. He is a composite number. My work is (sort of) done.

Posted by Jessica Shyu at 10:35 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

There is no such thing as a "bad day" or "lousy luck"-- you get what you put into it. But man, today was bad and my luck was lousy.

Lessons flopped. Confidential meeting papers got misplaced. And three students earned lunch detention, which meant I also had lunch detention. Parents were mad, teachers were madder and students were maddest. Everyone was in a bad mood. It was one of those days you pause in the middle of a chaotic lesson and pray you're not contributing too much to the educational fallout in the United States.

To add to the fun, I had a meeting in the afternoon. It's a pity I had forgotten about it until half an hour before it started. The documents I had written for the Individualized Educational Program (IEP) meeting got erased from the computer. We needed a translator. And the student didn't want to join us. Tensions were high even before the adults started raising their voices.

But in the middle of this meeting, the student's father piped up. He had been quiet through the whole hour. He didn't speak English and was going a bit deaf. He didnt have any education beyond the third grade, and in fact, had learned his trades of truck driving and lifting heavy equipment simply by observing others. But right now, in the middle of this uncomfortable meeting, he needed to say something. He said, in his soft, lilting Navajo, "Ahéhee’ sha’átchíní she’awéé’ nidanoohtin. Ahéhee’."

"Thank you, my children, for teaching my son. Thank you."

There is no such thing as a "bad day" or "lousy luck." I had a good day and great luck.

Posted by Jessica Shyu at 1:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I have a 14-year-old student with mental retardation who is learning to count by 5’s. Despite all of our practice and strategies, he hasn’t been able to get past 15 for the past month. Some days, it feels like a lost cause. Some days I think he’s not trying. And today, I am just tired.

But as we sat down for math class today, he called me over for “a surprise.” He counted a handful of nickels on his own all the way to 45 cents. I was floored.

And then he looks at my shyly and says, “Ms. Shyu, I’ve been practicing. I practiced all weekend when I was herding sheep. I wouldn’t stop counting until I got all the sheep in. I didn’t let myself stop practicing until I got home with the sheep.”

All I could do then, was give him a high-five.

Posted by Jessica Shyu at 10:04 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Dear readers: I will be updating this blog every Tuesday and occasionally in between. Please check back regularly for new posts. Thank you!

Teaching is a lot of things. Lots of warm and fuzzy things like getting apples on your desk, and making significant gains, and inspiring the future generations.

But as far as I’m concerned, teaching is also getting out of your comfort zone. It’s getting uncomfortable. It’s doing things you normally wouldn’t care or want to do. Like crawling on the floor to demonstrate what a caterpillar looks like. Or talking in an old geezer’s voice so your students can tell that you’re reading dialogue from a new character in the book.

I think it’s normal for people to do what they are good at. And I think it’s understandable when teachers teach in ways that they are good at. Common sense would say that maintaining self-dignity is a good way to maintain classroom management. I am good at reading, writing and arithmetic. I am good at lecturing and I am good at learning without hands-on manipulatives. I am comfortable at being serious about my job and getting work done well and efficiently

But as my graduate school professor reminds us each week, special education teachers need to be drama queens. That means sometimes stepping out of our comfort zones and skipping around the classroom with arms in the air so students understand what the word “jubilant” looks like. It means sitting around late at night cutting out what seems like a never-ending supply of coordinate points so that the kids could have a more hands-on experience in math class. And sometimes it means not taking ourselves too seriously and realizing it’s OK to kick back and debate with your students about the merits of rapper Lil John.

Posted by Jessica Shyu at 8:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

I’m 5’4”, 112 lb., and I look like a 15-year old.

There is nothing about me that drives fear into the hearts of 13-year olds on the Navajo Nation.

Some days, I wish I were a 250 lb. linebacker foaming at the mouth. Like days when I have 10 middle schoolers mimicking the rapper Lil John over my attempts to teach the silent-e sound. Or days when a student is trying to catch my attention by swatting the arm of a sweatshirt into my face. And especially on days when I really do have a 14-year-old football linebacker trying to ram past me out of the classroom.

But luckily for my delicate frame, being scary isn’t my job. And luckily, I’m (a little) older than 15. I’m the adult in the room. And while adults aren’t always calm, rational characters who put logic ahead of emotion, I’m the teacher. I get paid to be calm, rational and to put logic ahead of emotion. Because as any teacher knows (especially us young, inexperienced things), poor behavior management will destroy the best lesson plan.

The teaching gurus of the world have actually put together rules to keep us teachers in line when it comes to behavior management. Now, it’s easy to tell someone to “Have only a few rules. Repeat them. Be firm.” It’s much harder to actually execute when you’re scrambling to figure out what to teach the next day.

I’ve learned countless bits from my surrogate mothers at work, like my assistant, the other Special Ed teachers, and the teachers with decades of experience under their belts. I watch them and learn. Speak in low tones; don’t yell. Stay calm and don’t take it personally. Be logical and rational and explain it so it makes sense why you’re not supposed to hit someone with a book. And sometimes, admonish them in Navajo.

But really, as a second-year teacher with a little more confidence in the classroom, I have to give credit to my students for really teaching me those lessons.

They taught me my first year that if you aren’t clear with your expectations, they’ll make up their own, and it’ll often involve profanity and very little completed work. They taught me that if you don’t stick to the promised consequences the first time they break rules they’ll interpret that as encouragement to spew more profanity and do even less work. It took a good number of days in the classroom when students were rolling around on the ground making barnyard noises while I stood by wringing my hands. But I finally learned.

I learned to take deep breaths and give sharp teacher’s looks across the classroom. I learned that it’s well worth it to lose out on my lunch break (which doubles as my only prep period) so that a student will feel the anguish of lunch detention when he/she earns three or more warnings in class. I learned that lecturing is a waste of time. I learned that you need to address problem behaviors fast, and make sure they know you love them faster. And I learned that like with everything else in life, people need to be taught appropriate behaviors. Just like how teachers need to be taught how to teach them.

Posted by Jessica Shyu at 5:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)