I realized I've been counting my days wrong. I don't know how I got confused, but anyway, there were really only 33 days left of school today. It's close enough to the end that I've started to use fifth grade as a motivator and threat for my fourth grade students - i.e., "You should pay especially close attention to X because you'll definitely need to know X in fifth grade."
One thing I especially love about teaching my students is getting to observe their language development. Roughly half of my students in any given year were born in the U.S., a fourth came to the U.S. before they started kindgergarten, and another fourth came after kindergarten started. Usually two or three have parents who are extremely bilingual and speak both English and Spanish at home, and about half have parents who can understand a little bit of English - usually what is required for their jobs. Even if they were born here, most of my students started learning English when they started school here, though a few also learn from their parents and many learn from older brothers and sisters and from television. I have all levels of English proficiency in my classroom and a considerable range of Spanish proficiency, too. Though all my students understand Spanish perfectly and can read and write in Spanish, as they get older, some become more and more reluctant to speak Spanish - maybe because they perceive that English is the language of power.
Anyway, I love hearing my students play with their two languages. Occasionally, I will call individual students "dude" in jest, usually when I am with a small group of students outside of regular class time, usually when I'm trying to goad someone into doing something. "Dude, what's up with your biography project?" I asked Ramiro today when he was inside at lunch for detention. Biography projects were due last Friday and Ramiro has yet to turn in a rough draft. That got a laugh from the small group of students nearby.
A few months ago after a similar comment by me, Manuel started calling me "duda" - his invented Spanish-ified feminine version of dude. ("Duda" actually is a word in Spanish; it means doubt.) "Hi, duda," he'll sometimes say to me, knowing it will make me crack up. As Manuel, Ramiro, and Wilfredo were leaving detention, Manuel called out, "Bye, dudes and dudas."
Wilfredo, one of my more recent newcomers, added on, "Bye, dudos."
I laughed. "Did you just make up 'dudos' right now?" I asked.
He nodded.
More on language in future posts. I need to go to sleep. I think there is a direct correlation between the amount of sleep I get and my patience as a teacher. One exception is if I get almost no sleep, like less than 4 hours (which hardly ever happens!), I am so loopy and running on adrenaline and relaxed in a strange way, that those days actually usually turn out to be pretty good teaching days. I don't know if this holds for parenting and for other jobs.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Friday, April 27, 2007
Day -35: What We Already Know
I saw a new report yesterday that's trying to document why teachers leave teaching. Guess what? You already know the answers, I bet.
Here's an excerpt:
"Dissatisfied teachers who left the profession cited serious problems with their working environment. More than half
expressed concerns over inadequate supports, such as a lack of time for planning or professional development, and
bureaucratic impediments such as classroom interruptions, unnecessary meetings, and too little say over the way
their schools are run. Teachers pointed frequently to a lack of collegiality as a key reason for leaving the classroom."
So what should we do about this? The report's number two recommendation is to "increase school funding to (at least) adequate levels." What a crazy idea! We might actually be able to make schools better by giving them more money to work with. I don't want the money for myself, and in the report, most teachers agreed with me. Low salaries were not the main reason people were leaving. But if my school had money for counselors, for after-school tutoring, for fixing my ceiling so it doesn't leak, for a real librarian, for a psychogist and a nurse who would be on campus more than half a day per week, for giving me more time to plan lessons. Now that would make a difference.
It reminds me of another report that came out this week about the reasons for the high rates of breast cancer in certain communities in the US. The main answer: poverty. What should we do? Provide everyone with adequate health insurance, the report's authors say.
Yes.
In other news, today, after yet another little lecture from me about the importance of knowing appropriate times for silliness, Juan turned to me and said, on the verge of tears, "But I don't know what people would think of me if I weren't funny." That's another reason I love teaching fourth grade. My students often tell me totally honestly why they are doing what they're doing.
Here's an excerpt:
"Dissatisfied teachers who left the profession cited serious problems with their working environment. More than half
expressed concerns over inadequate supports, such as a lack of time for planning or professional development, and
bureaucratic impediments such as classroom interruptions, unnecessary meetings, and too little say over the way
their schools are run. Teachers pointed frequently to a lack of collegiality as a key reason for leaving the classroom."
So what should we do about this? The report's number two recommendation is to "increase school funding to (at least) adequate levels." What a crazy idea! We might actually be able to make schools better by giving them more money to work with. I don't want the money for myself, and in the report, most teachers agreed with me. Low salaries were not the main reason people were leaving. But if my school had money for counselors, for after-school tutoring, for fixing my ceiling so it doesn't leak, for a real librarian, for a psychogist and a nurse who would be on campus more than half a day per week, for giving me more time to plan lessons. Now that would make a difference.
It reminds me of another report that came out this week about the reasons for the high rates of breast cancer in certain communities in the US. The main answer: poverty. What should we do? Provide everyone with adequate health insurance, the report's authors say.
Yes.
In other news, today, after yet another little lecture from me about the importance of knowing appropriate times for silliness, Juan turned to me and said, on the verge of tears, "But I don't know what people would think of me if I weren't funny." That's another reason I love teaching fourth grade. My students often tell me totally honestly why they are doing what they're doing.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Day -36: More Juan Stories + Colonization
Juan was wearing my favorite shirt today. It's a long-sleeve kelly green t-shirt with a picture of a stick of butter being sliced and in loopy 70s script the phrase "Smooth Like Butta" printed below. It's such a hipster shirt; it cracks me up to see it on a 9-year old in my classroom. Plus, thinking of Juan as smooth as butta cracks me up. I covet the shirt. I asked him where he got it and, not surprisingly, he had no idea.
Today Juan had his once a week session with our school's "counseling intern" (translation: we don't have funding for real counselors, so we get a person studying counseling to come see a handful of the 800+ students at our school one day a week for free). He walked in the door and said gleefully, "It's 220 steps from the cafeteria to here."
Then we were making collages to introduce the next theme in our Houghton-Mifflin language arts series "Nature: Friend and Foe." (One of the only ways I can fit any art into my schedule now is to try to make some oblique connection to Houghton-Mifflin themes.) Juan decided to add a person's face, wheels from a car, and the trunk of a car to the body of an elephant seal. It looked awesome.
I got to teach about colonization today, too. I love teaching about colonization. Fourth graders have more righteous indignation than anybody, so teaching any group of fourth graders about colonization would be powerful. But to get to teach a roomful of Latino students, most of whose families are from Mexico, about how Spain colonized Mexico and parts of the United States, is a particularly amazing experience. Usually, they can't believe that people in Mexico didn't always speak Spanish. And they also usually can't believe that California used to be part of Spain and then part of Mexico. It feels so powerful to help my students feel connected to the history of this place where they live. We acted out sixth graders from the middle school next door trying to colonize our classroom and then acted out conquistadors trying to claim our classroom for Spain. They just could not believe that people would try to do that. Which I guess is the really hard part - helping students come to understand why colonization happens and what could be going through the minds of the colonizers. Fourth graders don't really get that. But maybe that's part of why I like teaching fourth grade - injustice is so clear to them.
Today Juan had his once a week session with our school's "counseling intern" (translation: we don't have funding for real counselors, so we get a person studying counseling to come see a handful of the 800+ students at our school one day a week for free). He walked in the door and said gleefully, "It's 220 steps from the cafeteria to here."
Then we were making collages to introduce the next theme in our Houghton-Mifflin language arts series "Nature: Friend and Foe." (One of the only ways I can fit any art into my schedule now is to try to make some oblique connection to Houghton-Mifflin themes.) Juan decided to add a person's face, wheels from a car, and the trunk of a car to the body of an elephant seal. It looked awesome.
I got to teach about colonization today, too. I love teaching about colonization. Fourth graders have more righteous indignation than anybody, so teaching any group of fourth graders about colonization would be powerful. But to get to teach a roomful of Latino students, most of whose families are from Mexico, about how Spain colonized Mexico and parts of the United States, is a particularly amazing experience. Usually, they can't believe that people in Mexico didn't always speak Spanish. And they also usually can't believe that California used to be part of Spain and then part of Mexico. It feels so powerful to help my students feel connected to the history of this place where they live. We acted out sixth graders from the middle school next door trying to colonize our classroom and then acted out conquistadors trying to claim our classroom for Spain. They just could not believe that people would try to do that. Which I guess is the really hard part - helping students come to understand why colonization happens and what could be going through the minds of the colonizers. Fourth graders don't really get that. But maybe that's part of why I like teaching fourth grade - injustice is so clear to them.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Day -37: More Testing
Our day of testing started of with Juan in tears, crouched on the floor trying to excavate the mess that is his desk to find the first four paragraphs of his biography of Jane Goodall. They were nowhere to be found, and the thought of redoing them (not that I had said anything to him about redoing them) made him despondent. Having one of my star students start out the testing session bawling was not the best beginning. I showed him an article about Jane Goodall in the Science Times that I had brought in, and that managed to cheer him up in the nick of time.
Yesterday, I noticed that Ramiro, a super-bright, inquistive kid with the longest eyelashes ever and an obsession with World War II, was on #6 while everyone else was already on #30 or so. He's always like that, though, so I didn't worry too much; his first grade teacher called him her tortuga. Then I noticed him at the sink a few minutes later, rubbing his hand vigorously with soap. "What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm washing my hands."
Umm, yeah. "Why is there black ink all over them?"
"I was tracing the veins on the back of my hands with Sharpie."
Yep, state standardized testing is the perfect time to do that. He did eventually focus and I bet did pretty well. I was actually proud of my students for their effort overall.
Maria update: She's not moving to Mexico yet, at least not this week. The latest word is that her family is going to save up money to buy the house next to their relatives' house in Mexico, plus they're going to let her sister finish high school here. That means they might move at the end of the 2007-2008 school year. We'll see if that version of the plan holds.
Yesterday, I noticed that Ramiro, a super-bright, inquistive kid with the longest eyelashes ever and an obsession with World War II, was on #6 while everyone else was already on #30 or so. He's always like that, though, so I didn't worry too much; his first grade teacher called him her tortuga. Then I noticed him at the sink a few minutes later, rubbing his hand vigorously with soap. "What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm washing my hands."
Umm, yeah. "Why is there black ink all over them?"
"I was tracing the veins on the back of my hands with Sharpie."
Yep, state standardized testing is the perfect time to do that. He did eventually focus and I bet did pretty well. I was actually proud of my students for their effort overall.
Maria update: She's not moving to Mexico yet, at least not this week. The latest word is that her family is going to save up money to buy the house next to their relatives' house in Mexico, plus they're going to let her sister finish high school here. That means they might move at the end of the 2007-2008 school year. We'll see if that version of the plan holds.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Day -38: Standardized Testing Is Here
Today was the first day of the all-important state standardized tests.
Here are the number of days my students spend taking standardized bubble-in tests each year:
Plus, there is a state writing test (1 day, about 90 minutes long) and a district writing test (also 1 day, about 90 minutes).
Then, for students who have not yet proven they are fluent in English, aka English Learners (24 of my 31 students), there's a state test to measure each student's English proficiency level that takes about 4 days of testing, with sessions lasting about 60 minutes each day.
That's a lot of tests! Of course I want my students to be able to demonstrate that they have learned what they are supposed to learn in 4th grade, and of course standardized tests are a reality in their future educational and professional lives. But I'm not sure who decided that testing 4th graders in sessions lasting 85 minutes was the best way to assess their mastery of content. My students can focus on their tests for about 60 minutes. After that, only the most conscientious are still methodically reading through each passage, valiantly trying to apply the test-taking strategies we've practiced and trying to remember the scores of isolated subskills that are being tested.
I'm also not sure what the point is of testing students like Wilfredo who has been in the US for a year-and-a-half on fourth grade language arts standards in English. Yes, I will get his scores back and see that he is "Far Below Basic." I knew that already. The state tests do not measure his progress or give me any guidance in planning instruction for him or other newcomers. There have been lots of proposals about how to modify testing requirements for English Learners, but they always get shot down. Check out a few here, here, and here.
Finally, do you know exactly what the difference is between a fable, a myth, a legend, and a folktale? My students are supposed to. Not that the state-adopted language arts curriculum I must use in my classroom really addresses this standard. Sure, there a few myths in their reading anthologies, but that's not nearly sufficient to address the standard. I researched the exact differences and then designed my own curriculum to teach it to my students. Sometimes the sheer number of standards students are supposed to master seems impossible, also. The National Council of Teachers of Mathematics sees this triumph of breadth over depth as a problem and this year issued new Focal Points, defining what it sees as the key math standards students should master in each grade level. I'm not sure when the pendulum will swing back a little towards depth.
Meanwhile, my students will spend 85 more minutes tomorrow silently filling in bubbles, determining whether my school is seen as a success or failure.
Here are the number of days my students spend taking standardized bubble-in tests each year:
- 4 days of state language arts and math tests in English (~85 minute sessions on each day)
- 4 days of state language arts and math tests in Spanish (this is a new test, so I've never given it, but it's supposed to be exactly aligned with the state English-language tests, so I would guess it would be about 85 minutes per day also)
- 12 days of district reading and math assessments, 4 at the end of each trimester (about 45 minutes each day)
Plus, there is a state writing test (1 day, about 90 minutes long) and a district writing test (also 1 day, about 90 minutes).
Then, for students who have not yet proven they are fluent in English, aka English Learners (24 of my 31 students), there's a state test to measure each student's English proficiency level that takes about 4 days of testing, with sessions lasting about 60 minutes each day.
That's a lot of tests! Of course I want my students to be able to demonstrate that they have learned what they are supposed to learn in 4th grade, and of course standardized tests are a reality in their future educational and professional lives. But I'm not sure who decided that testing 4th graders in sessions lasting 85 minutes was the best way to assess their mastery of content. My students can focus on their tests for about 60 minutes. After that, only the most conscientious are still methodically reading through each passage, valiantly trying to apply the test-taking strategies we've practiced and trying to remember the scores of isolated subskills that are being tested.
I'm also not sure what the point is of testing students like Wilfredo who has been in the US for a year-and-a-half on fourth grade language arts standards in English. Yes, I will get his scores back and see that he is "Far Below Basic." I knew that already. The state tests do not measure his progress or give me any guidance in planning instruction for him or other newcomers. There have been lots of proposals about how to modify testing requirements for English Learners, but they always get shot down. Check out a few here, here, and here.
Finally, do you know exactly what the difference is between a fable, a myth, a legend, and a folktale? My students are supposed to. Not that the state-adopted language arts curriculum I must use in my classroom really addresses this standard. Sure, there a few myths in their reading anthologies, but that's not nearly sufficient to address the standard. I researched the exact differences and then designed my own curriculum to teach it to my students. Sometimes the sheer number of standards students are supposed to master seems impossible, also. The National Council of Teachers of Mathematics sees this triumph of breadth over depth as a problem and this year issued new Focal Points, defining what it sees as the key math standards students should master in each grade level. I'm not sure when the pendulum will swing back a little towards depth.
Meanwhile, my students will spend 85 more minutes tomorrow silently filling in bubbles, determining whether my school is seen as a success or failure.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Day -39: Sly and the Family Stone + La Migra
My students and their sub seem to have survived each other while I was in New York. "Awesome group of students!" the sub even wrote in a note to me. That is not always the kind of note I get from subs!
This morning I was starting to explain what we were going to do, but I was speaking slowly, drawing out my words as I often do when I'm buying time to adjust my plans according to whatever constraints present themselves. "We ... are ...," I said slowly.
"Family!" Juan sang. He is always like that, making me want to crack up, but when it's the 500th such interjection of the day, it isn't really funny anymore. And consequences don't really help that much. His comic drive is too strong to be stopped by time-outs and the principal's office (if it even should be). "I am a cute boy," he wrote today as a sentence for his spelling word "acute" - and then he wanted to get up to show off his cleverness to everyone else whose attention he could grab. Squirmy, hilarious, and incredibly, incredibly smart. I wish I had someone who could come in and teach him calculus while I'm teaching long division. I really hope he gets the challenges and opportunities he deserves. Our world needs him!
Today at recess Janette said to me, "Did you know Maria is moving to Mexico?" Janette and Maria are attached at the hip, leaning in to confide in each other at recess, finishing each other's sentences, knowing everything about the other. "She didn't want to tell me because she knew I'd start crying," Janette added.
When Maria came in a few minutes later, I asked her whether the rumor was true. Her answer shocked me - though I suppose it shouldn't have. "Yeah, my dad wants us to leave this week, I think," Maria started, hesitantly. "You know how they ... the ..."
"La Migra," another student chimed in.
"Yeah, La Migra," Maria continued. "You know how La Migra is coming to get people who aren't from here. They don't want us here because they say we take away jobs. Well, my dad doesn't want La Migra to come for us, so he might take us to Mexico. My sister's babysitter, La Migra came to her house. They knocked on the door really hard, and they hid. They have a dog, and if the dog had barked, they would have come inside and taken them away."
"Her brother is the only one who is from here," the other student added, "so they don't know what to do."
"My dad is going to come back here and keep working and send us money," Maria added. The group of girls gathered around my desk all nodded knowingly, the news of INS raids across the country clearly something they were deeply familiar with, the fear and confusion palpable.
Maria came to the US with her parents when she was in first grade. She is a lanky, spunky student who speaks English well, struggles with multiplication facts, and loves singing hand clap songs with other kids. She knows more hand claps than anyone else in my class. One time she told me that she didn't like her kindergarten in Mexico because "they didn't teach you anything. They just had you color." I don't want her to leave!
This morning I was starting to explain what we were going to do, but I was speaking slowly, drawing out my words as I often do when I'm buying time to adjust my plans according to whatever constraints present themselves. "We ... are ...," I said slowly.
"Family!" Juan sang. He is always like that, making me want to crack up, but when it's the 500th such interjection of the day, it isn't really funny anymore. And consequences don't really help that much. His comic drive is too strong to be stopped by time-outs and the principal's office (if it even should be). "I am a cute boy," he wrote today as a sentence for his spelling word "acute" - and then he wanted to get up to show off his cleverness to everyone else whose attention he could grab. Squirmy, hilarious, and incredibly, incredibly smart. I wish I had someone who could come in and teach him calculus while I'm teaching long division. I really hope he gets the challenges and opportunities he deserves. Our world needs him!
Today at recess Janette said to me, "Did you know Maria is moving to Mexico?" Janette and Maria are attached at the hip, leaning in to confide in each other at recess, finishing each other's sentences, knowing everything about the other. "She didn't want to tell me because she knew I'd start crying," Janette added.
When Maria came in a few minutes later, I asked her whether the rumor was true. Her answer shocked me - though I suppose it shouldn't have. "Yeah, my dad wants us to leave this week, I think," Maria started, hesitantly. "You know how they ... the ..."
"La Migra," another student chimed in.
"Yeah, La Migra," Maria continued. "You know how La Migra is coming to get people who aren't from here. They don't want us here because they say we take away jobs. Well, my dad doesn't want La Migra to come for us, so he might take us to Mexico. My sister's babysitter, La Migra came to her house. They knocked on the door really hard, and they hid. They have a dog, and if the dog had barked, they would have come inside and taken them away."
"Her brother is the only one who is from here," the other student added, "so they don't know what to do."
"My dad is going to come back here and keep working and send us money," Maria added. The group of girls gathered around my desk all nodded knowingly, the news of INS raids across the country clearly something they were deeply familiar with, the fear and confusion palpable.
Maria came to the US with her parents when she was in first grade. She is a lanky, spunky student who speaks English well, struggles with multiplication facts, and loves singing hand clap songs with other kids. She knows more hand claps than anyone else in my class. One time she told me that she didn't like her kindergarten in Mexico because "they didn't teach you anything. They just had you color." I don't want her to leave!
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Day -41: Parallel Universe
It's late and I'm leaving tomorrow night for a wedding in NYC, so this will be short.
A good geometry problem for fourth graders (at least my students liked it when I spontaneously thought of it):
Which letters of the alphabet have perpendicular lines? Which ones have parallel lines? (Looking at this curvy font, it seems like a silly problem, but I'm sure you can use your imagination ...)
"Can we use letters in Spanish?" Alex asked right away when trying to solve the parallel part of the problem. I had a hunch he had thought of the "ll" letter, pronounced like the "y" in yellow. I was right.
"What do people mean when they say 'parallel universe'?" Juan asked a moment later.
A good geometry problem for fourth graders (at least my students liked it when I spontaneously thought of it):
Which letters of the alphabet have perpendicular lines? Which ones have parallel lines? (Looking at this curvy font, it seems like a silly problem, but I'm sure you can use your imagination ...)
"Can we use letters in Spanish?" Alex asked right away when trying to solve the parallel part of the problem. I had a hunch he had thought of the "ll" letter, pronounced like the "y" in yellow. I was right.
"What do people mean when they say 'parallel universe'?" Juan asked a moment later.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Day -42: Tamales + "You're on fire"
It's our second day back from spring break. I was very sick for the last two weeks before break, like so sick that I taught for two full days almost entirely without speaking because it hurt so much to talk. It's amazing how effective teaching without being able to talk can be. My students were fervently attentive because they knew that if they whispered while I tried to say something, they wouldn't be able to hear me. Plus, they knew I was mostly going to show what they were supposed to do with actions anyway, so they followed my every move. When Juan, my most gifted, squirmy student, got up to show his super-long list of brainstormed words with prefixes to a friend (when he was supposed to be sitting down), instead of calling out his name, I just physically (gently) put my hands on his shoulders and guided him back to where he was supposed to be. Instead of using my voice to get students' attention, I brought in a bunch of new instruments and changed my attention signal to a new instrument each day. (I used to use a new instrument each month, but I'd gotten lazy about it.) I would write instructions on the board and point to students who were volunteering to read them. It worked great - except that I couldn't really teach any new material. It did reinforce two ideas I have, though: 1) Teachers should talk less. 2) Novelty is important in motivation and classroom management.
Now we're back and I can (mostly) talk. Somehow those weeks of not being able to do nearly as much work as I normally do, plus my now-final decision to go to grad school next year, have made me a much more laid-back teacher. I am more focused on enjoying my students and less wound-up about whether they master identifying trapezoids and parallelograms today. When Juan came in after lunch to get a book he wanted to take to his English Language Development class, I was walking to my desk and we almost bonked into each other, but at the last second we each veered aside with crazy swirling swimming motions. I just started cracking up, and all my students did do. Those moments of levity are so important. But when I'm stressed out, my stress pervades the room, and it dehumanizes all of us.
One way I'm trying to enjoy my students more is that I reinstated lunch with me as a prize for the team that earns the most team points each week. I used team points every year in the past. Students sit in groups of four, and I would award points throughout the week for teams that cleaned up quickly, were listening attentively, were all focused on whatever they were supposed to be doing. I abolished them this year, though, because I just didn't like the gimmicky nature of it, there are always a few students who figure out ways to make their teams win over and over, and it's impossible to be truly fair. But I used them as a management tool when I couldn't talk and when I had subs while I was sick, and I just decided to let them stand. Today Team 6 got to eat lunch with me, and they were excited! I brought tamales, and we had such a fun lunch. A few students were kind of freaked out by my vegetarian tamales that didn't look like the ones their moms make, but after a few brave souls tried them and dubbed them delicious, the others dug in. One girl was sitting quietly throughout lunch. "Are you a shy girl?" another girl inquired, kind of out of nowhere. The shy girl nodded back. It's unpredictable lines like these that I love, that make being with my students so much fun.
I met with a small group of students after school to give them extra help with long division. The group got stumped by one part of a long division problem. Marco, a boy with learning disabilites who really struggles with basic math facts, started showing a strategy I'd demonstrated a long time ago for doing division problems. He drew circles to represent the number of groups he was making and then put dots in each circle as he divided the dividend among the groups. "Wow! You got smarter over vacation," a gifted student anmed Alex said to Marco. "You're on fire." Marco didn't seem to feel bad about the back-handed nature of this compliment. He beamed, happy to help others when they were stuck. Later, when Alex was stuck again, he said, "I want to be on fire like Marco." I need to remember to try to help each student feel like they are masters at something - some strategy, some topic, something.
Now we're back and I can (mostly) talk. Somehow those weeks of not being able to do nearly as much work as I normally do, plus my now-final decision to go to grad school next year, have made me a much more laid-back teacher. I am more focused on enjoying my students and less wound-up about whether they master identifying trapezoids and parallelograms today. When Juan came in after lunch to get a book he wanted to take to his English Language Development class, I was walking to my desk and we almost bonked into each other, but at the last second we each veered aside with crazy swirling swimming motions. I just started cracking up, and all my students did do. Those moments of levity are so important. But when I'm stressed out, my stress pervades the room, and it dehumanizes all of us.
One way I'm trying to enjoy my students more is that I reinstated lunch with me as a prize for the team that earns the most team points each week. I used team points every year in the past. Students sit in groups of four, and I would award points throughout the week for teams that cleaned up quickly, were listening attentively, were all focused on whatever they were supposed to be doing. I abolished them this year, though, because I just didn't like the gimmicky nature of it, there are always a few students who figure out ways to make their teams win over and over, and it's impossible to be truly fair. But I used them as a management tool when I couldn't talk and when I had subs while I was sick, and I just decided to let them stand. Today Team 6 got to eat lunch with me, and they were excited! I brought tamales, and we had such a fun lunch. A few students were kind of freaked out by my vegetarian tamales that didn't look like the ones their moms make, but after a few brave souls tried them and dubbed them delicious, the others dug in. One girl was sitting quietly throughout lunch. "Are you a shy girl?" another girl inquired, kind of out of nowhere. The shy girl nodded back. It's unpredictable lines like these that I love, that make being with my students so much fun.
I met with a small group of students after school to give them extra help with long division. The group got stumped by one part of a long division problem. Marco, a boy with learning disabilites who really struggles with basic math facts, started showing a strategy I'd demonstrated a long time ago for doing division problems. He drew circles to represent the number of groups he was making and then put dots in each circle as he divided the dividend among the groups. "Wow! You got smarter over vacation," a gifted student anmed Alex said to Marco. "You're on fire." Marco didn't seem to feel bad about the back-handed nature of this compliment. He beamed, happy to help others when they were stuck. Later, when Alex was stuck again, he said, "I want to be on fire like Marco." I need to remember to try to help each student feel like they are masters at something - some strategy, some topic, something.
Welcome
As a teacher about to leave teaching (at least temporarily), I'm going to try to post once a day for these last 42 days of school to help me remember what teaching is like. My days are packed with interactions, and when I come home from work, images and conversations from my day often come flooding back to me. I hope recording some of those interactions here will be fun and useful for me and also might provide a window into the world of teaching for anyone who stops by.
A few notes:
1) The anonymity of my students and my school is important to me. If you are reading this and you know me and where I work, please don't refer to me, my school, or my students by name!
2) Since documenting conversations with students without using names at all seems cumbersome, I will give my students pseudonyms when I write about them.
I hope you have fun reading!
A few notes:
1) The anonymity of my students and my school is important to me. If you are reading this and you know me and where I work, please don't refer to me, my school, or my students by name!
2) Since documenting conversations with students without using names at all seems cumbersome, I will give my students pseudonyms when I write about them.
I hope you have fun reading!
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