On the Reservation

Jessica Shyu, now in her second year with Teach For America, is a special education teacher at an elementary and middle school on the Navajo Nation in New Mexico. Once a journalism student from the Washington, D.C., area , she has since traded the Beltway for the sprawling mesas of the Southwest. In this blog, Jessica will chronicle the good, the bad, and the occasionally amusing of being a young teacher at an underresourced school in a rural community.

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January 30, 2007

Are slumps normal?

Are slumps normal?

I care about my students, I’m dedicated to my job and I think I’m somewhat competent at what I do. But as the days drag on, as the slush turns to ice, then back to slush again, I’m beginning to sense a loss of energy and enthusiasm.

Some folks swear it’s because of “The Long Night” out here— it’s dark when you go to work in the morning and dark when you finally leave to go home. Other suggest it’s just post-holiday, mid-year stress. I don’t know what it is. But it needs to go. On top of feeling low and anxious, I feel guilty for feeling low and anxious.

So much of teaching is personality driven. Children are so perceptive and feed off our energy. It's so important to go to work with a clear mind. I know that I need to reengage my students and myself with our big goals. Field trips and new projects would help. And a Family Involvement event would probably get me back into the groove. But in the meantime, I know exactly how my sullen 14-year-olds are feeling when they say they don't have the energy for school.

January 26, 2007

Kids say the kindest things

You can’t buy sympathy, my mother always said, and it’s probably the hardest thing to teach. My mother, a nurse, would say this proudly as my brother and I would bring home lackluster grades, but would wheel the grandmas and grandpas around the halls of the nursing home after school as we waited for her to finish her shift. Our grades weren’t stellar, but at least we were quick to hug the elderly folks with dementia and even faster to call out BINGO numbers during afternoon games.

Unfortunately, sympathy, kindness and peace don’t always fit neatly into standards and objectives. Our designated reading and writing curricula may be aligned to the five pillars established by the National Reading Panel, but it doesn’t always meet the pillars of how to be a decent human being. And when your students are 14, angry and marred by poverty, betrayal and abuse, concepts of sympathy, kindness and peace aren’t the most easily relatable.

But as teachers, it’s our jobs to try. Last year for Black History Month, another Special Education teacher invited my class to a sit-in. It was mesmerizing for all of us to watch this older, white woman with two broken arms describe her youth as a desegregation activist in Texas.

This month, our door is decorated with biographical summaries of international peacemakers, like Martin Luther King, Jr., Mother Teresa and Chief Joseph. This week, our writing assignment is to imagine having $1 million to give away to any person or group. Who would you give it to and why? These are two responses:

By “Emerson”

I will give to the orphans.
I will give some mony to the orphan to buy food for the ophan.
And the orphan deed a buy to go get food, coust, and go to a playgrand to play at in orphan town.
And the orphan need parents to couk and to go school. and buy them Bick’s, and some game and a Xbax, and Play Station 2.


By Corey

I want to give the money to the old people. I will help and get them a lot of heaters for winter because it will keep them from turning into a Popsicle. I will give them a lot of food to eat. The food will help keep them from hunger. Old people have no job so they have no money to buy food. I will give them games, shoe games, boared games, sewing, and a TV so they won’t get bored all day and it will keep them busy.

In one glance, I see they need work on sentence construction. And spelling. And run-ons. But in one rough draft, they remind me that sympathy can’t be bought and it’s probably the hardest thing to teach. But everyone can learn.

January 23, 2007

Public Education v. Baby Einstein

Don't get me wrong. I like Baby Einstein. The way my boyfriend's baby nephews gaze at the TV screen when those farm animals bobble about to Old McDonald mesmerizes me. And early childhood educational programming is a lucrative industry I wouldn't mind tapping into one of these days.

But in the meantime, as my good friend and fellow teacher Joan Lee asked me after the State of the Union address...

"Why the hell did Baby Einstein get more play than FAILING PUBLIC SCHOOLS?"

Questions? Comments? Tips on how I too can take part in this multi-million dollar enterprising spirit of education?

EDIT:

I'm all for the entrepeneurial spirit. I come from a long line of business folk. This blog entry was simply to point out, not my bitterness toward innovation and ingenuity, but our apparent lack of commitment to public education.

I don't usually link to blog comments, but in this case, I think A Big Fan of Baby Einstein clarified my point more articulately than me:

Private efforts in education are to be supported, appreciated, and encouraged; and many do a fantastic and much needed job. But the fact remains that private efforts **ALONE** will not solve our public school difficulties. I think Ms. Shyu was merely lamenting the fact that public education is not a greater federal priority for the current Administration (beyond the controversial NCLB).
This should not be seen (and I’m sure she did not mean) as an affront to the outstanding work of Ms. Aigner-Clark.

January 16, 2007

A real cowboy

Photo_by_e_stummer

I had a blog entry ready from a couple months ago about one of my students with mental retardation and physical disabilities. This is how it was going to start:

I have a 14-year-old cowboy in my classroom who cannot add. He cannot remember the alphabet. And he most definitely cannot read.

But even with a disabled hand and a limp, “Elmer,” who has mental retardation, can cut bales of hay. He can tell you which direction the sun rises. He can feed the horses, figure out which sheep are missing and make dinner in the microwave. Sure, there is physical therapy and he gets occupational therapy, but more importantly, there is water that needs hauling. And wire that needs cutting. And porches that need sweeping.

According to the therapist who evaluated Elmer earlier in the year, most children with his level of physical and mental disabilities would not be able to manage the range of motion, strength and skill that he has. Years of being a cowboy and helping the family survive has given him abilities that he probably would not have had if he had been sheltered, coddled and living in the urban confines of, say, Washington, D.C.

This was originally going to be an entry on his incredible life skills abilities despite his major academic inabilities. But now I have to change it. Because now Elmer can read about 25 life skills words and spell about 15. (Once he reaches 50 sight words, we’re going to have a party. We’ve discussed this for a long time now. It will involve the biggest and bestest chocolate cake that Ms. Shyu will hand-craft for him despite never having baked a chocolate cake before in her life.)

He can now comprehend stories read to him at the upper-second grade level. He knows which books he likes at the bookstore and he knows how to nag me until I drop my work and record the story onto a tape. He knows how to “take notes” and “summarize” stories into a tape recorder so I can grade it after class. He knows how to use a calculator to add and subtract single-digits, double-digits and money values. He can count by 1’s, 5’s and 10’s for pennies, nickels and dimes.

There is so much more we must do. He is 14 now and has less than seven years to go in public education. When I imagine what countless skills it will take for him to be able to go grocery shopping independently one day, I’m overwhelmed. And sad.

But he’s overcome so many hurdles and surpassed so many expectations already. Who am I to be sad? I’m just here to bake a cake.

January 9, 2007

Piano

I called my mom after it happened last September. And she almost cried.

Remember those eight years of piano lessons, I asked. Of course she did.

Did she remember those eight miserable years of piano lessons where she had to drag me kicking and screaming to the piano teacher? Those years of piano where it seemed like she was paying $60 an hour to argue with me for five? Of course; how could any of us forget?

Somehow over the past semester, more than a decade since that last triumphant piano lesson when I was 13, it all became worth it. I had avoided the instrument fairly successfully in the past 10 years. But when another staff member asked me last fall to teach a child whose behavior was finally improving and who desperately wanted to learn how to play, how could I refuse?

I printed out some basic sheet music online. I trudged down to the dormitory. “Mervin” and I sat down on the piano bench and I slowly taught him how to connect the musical notes to the keyboard. It was all coming back. Within half an hour, he was playing “Mary had a Little Lamb” on his own. And soon we had a crowd.

A gaggle of tough middle school boys in black heavy metal T-shirts and cool swaggers huddled around us, eagerly trying to point out to Mervin where the next note was supposed to be on the keyboard. When I asked them to keep quiet so Mervin could concentrate, they got louder, but this time to ask me to come back and teach them piano too.

January 6, 2007

End-of-vacation anxiety

Isn't it amazing how the quality of one's winter vacation inversely correlates with the amount of work completed?

It's Saturday night in Washington, D.C. I return to New Mexico tomorrow. My two week vacation is over. And here I am, desperately planning my third quarter agenda, writing lesson plans, piecing together math homework and wondering if I should procrastinate by writing a quick blog entry.

Jessica Shyu

J. Shyu.

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