Now that I am at the stage in my pregnancy that I can stop conversation when I walk into a room ("wow, you are, like, really, really pregnant" is a phrase I hear frequently) I am peppered daily with questions from the kids about the growing baby.
Some are sweet and come with kisses on my tummy or "I'll miss you baby" on Friday afternoons when they are leaving for the weekend. Others are not so sweet.
Here are some from today:
How did that baby get in you?
How did you get a baby?
Why did you get a baby?
Are you fat or having a baby?
Will you please stop eating, your stomach is getting too big!
Your tummy keeps getting bigger!
How will the baby get out? From your mouth or from your bottom?
I've taken to answering most of these questions with the same answer, "the baby will come in September." I am being a terrible language model for my friends who all have IEP goals to answer questions on topic, but I figure I spend all day asking questions and getting slightly off topic answers, I might as well try the strategy for myself. So far it has worked... Which may be worrisome when we consider their conversation skills, but I won't question my luck.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Golden Boy & the 3 immigrants...
One of my classes put on plays for the end of the year. They were adorable fabulous plays including Goldilocks, Golden Boy (no one minds a male Goldilocks, do they?), Caps for Sale, and Three Billy Goats Gruff.
Goldilocks was in English but Golden Boy was intended to be in Spanish. The four Spanish-speaking actors did an amazing job with their lines during practice but when it came time to do the show this morning Golden Boy froze. An understudy was quickly designated to take his place, however the understudy missed the memo to speak in Spanish. He did an excellent job with his lines and was a very aggressive Golden Boy- stomping around the 3 Bears house helping himself to their porridge, chairs, and bed.
The Bear family returned and in Spanish expressed horror and remorse that their house had been broken into. Then suddenly they discovered an English speaking "Golden Boy" in their bed.
The bi-lingual play was great, although I couldn't help but feel there was something disturbing about the immigrant family so nicely going for an evening stroll while they wait for their supper to cool down when suddenly their house is broken into by a male who doesn't even speak their language, is known as Golden Boy, and feels he was the right to help himself to everything in the house. They returned to the house to find it ransacked with the culprit still inside, but didn't even call the police. I don't think we were sending the message we wanted to send, but none of the parents seemed concerned so I think we're OK.
Goldilocks was in English but Golden Boy was intended to be in Spanish. The four Spanish-speaking actors did an amazing job with their lines during practice but when it came time to do the show this morning Golden Boy froze. An understudy was quickly designated to take his place, however the understudy missed the memo to speak in Spanish. He did an excellent job with his lines and was a very aggressive Golden Boy- stomping around the 3 Bears house helping himself to their porridge, chairs, and bed.
The Bear family returned and in Spanish expressed horror and remorse that their house had been broken into. Then suddenly they discovered an English speaking "Golden Boy" in their bed.
The bi-lingual play was great, although I couldn't help but feel there was something disturbing about the immigrant family so nicely going for an evening stroll while they wait for their supper to cool down when suddenly their house is broken into by a male who doesn't even speak their language, is known as Golden Boy, and feels he was the right to help himself to everything in the house. They returned to the house to find it ransacked with the culprit still inside, but didn't even call the police. I don't think we were sending the message we wanted to send, but none of the parents seemed concerned so I think we're OK.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
why we teach
Every year before fifth grade graduation I get together old pictures of my former first graders who are now getting ready to graduate from fifth grade. There is something both amusing and humbling about bringing a too-cool-for-school fifth grade boy a stack of pictures from when he was in first grade. Remember when I worried over his reading progress and his inability to sit on the carpet for more than five minutes? Now he's a star reader and an excellent citizen. I want to whisper to them all, I remember when you couldn't read, couldn't tie your shoe, and had no problem picking your nose in public. Good job with the growing up thing! Of course, I write them each a letter and I try to make it a bit more elequent than that. I want them to know that I'm proud of them, and that they are important enough that teachers still think of them years later. They should know that they are loved and worthy of others paying attention to them in a way that encourages them to live up to that worthiness.
I grew up in a small town and my mother was always coming back from the grocery store to inform me that she'd run into some former teacher I'd had who'd asked about me. In her next breath she'd tell me about the gossip she'd learned about one of my former peers who was finally out of rehab. It was a helpful message- people care about you enough to still think about you, but by the way, good thing you're making them proud because it would be a shame for the whole town to realize you've turned to drugs...
My kids don't live in a small town so I sometimes feel like we have to recreate that community in our school.
This year when I dropped off my letters and pictures in one class I mentioned to the teacher and the student that I remembered the student's first day of school when he didn't speak any English. The teacher smiled and said, "You know he wrote a story about that." I said I would love to see it while inwardly panicking. Please don't let me have had some terrible teacher moment that day that so traumatized the boy he needed to write about it years later...
It was nothing of the sort. I had to try not to tear up while I read his amazingly well-written piece about his experience starting at a new school where he didn't speak the language. With a tone and author's voice beyond most fifth graders he takes the reader into his nervous thoughts that first morning when he was wondering how he would survive. In a mixture of English and well-placed Spanish words he describes his thoughts throughout the rest of the day, his fear at each new subject and his relief when he made it through each one before he began to panic about the next step. He writes about being saved by a basket of Spanish libros he could read, the relief of being able to write in Spanish, and how he appreciated having a peer translator in math to help him explain his thinking when he knew the right answer.
I'd love to print the story here for you but it's not my story to tell. It's so well crafted that I hope he'll submit it to some journals that publish student work. If he wants it on-line he'll share it himself. You'll have to take my word for it on how he perfectly describes the experience of an ESOL student's first day.
I made a copy of the story for myself. I want to be able to re-read it when I'm thinking of how to integrate students into the classroom, how to make the room welcoming, and more importantly, how small moments in a day can stay with a child forever. How little things we do, things we don't even think about because we're so busy trying to stay on top of paperwork and meetings, are truly significant to each child. So significant that the child will remember them years later. Our small actions, good or bad, can stay with our students forever. In kindergarten and first grade it's easy to think that they are so little that they'll recover from a bad day in school, or that they'll be flexible and simply jump into the routines easily. Realizing that five years later they will no longer be small children but fifth grade authors who are capable of looking back and articulating their experiences clearly is important. We're not just teaching children, we're teaching future adults who just happen to be children right now.*
To be honest I do not have much memory from his first day. I'm sure I was told about 20 minutes before the school day started that I was getting a new student, and it probably was not until I met him that I learned he did not speak English. This is common at our school and we usually expect that new students transferring in will be English-language learners. My class that year was an interesting bunch that kept me on my toes and I'm thankful that something went well enough that day that this little boy felt like he could survive the year. I'm more thankful and in awe that 5 years later he shared his story with me, a story that will stay with me forever, reminding me of the future adult inside each five year old while giving me insight into what it is like to start school when you do not speak the language.
*This is what my husband keeps reminding me of when I think of baby names. Whenever I propose something fabulous like Bunny he simply replies that we're not naming a baby, we're naming an adult who will happen to use the name as a baby. Then he makes me say the name like I'm answering the phone as president of a company. "Hello, Bunny Lipstick speaking" doesn't instill much confidence...
I grew up in a small town and my mother was always coming back from the grocery store to inform me that she'd run into some former teacher I'd had who'd asked about me. In her next breath she'd tell me about the gossip she'd learned about one of my former peers who was finally out of rehab. It was a helpful message- people care about you enough to still think about you, but by the way, good thing you're making them proud because it would be a shame for the whole town to realize you've turned to drugs...
My kids don't live in a small town so I sometimes feel like we have to recreate that community in our school.
This year when I dropped off my letters and pictures in one class I mentioned to the teacher and the student that I remembered the student's first day of school when he didn't speak any English. The teacher smiled and said, "You know he wrote a story about that." I said I would love to see it while inwardly panicking. Please don't let me have had some terrible teacher moment that day that so traumatized the boy he needed to write about it years later...
It was nothing of the sort. I had to try not to tear up while I read his amazingly well-written piece about his experience starting at a new school where he didn't speak the language. With a tone and author's voice beyond most fifth graders he takes the reader into his nervous thoughts that first morning when he was wondering how he would survive. In a mixture of English and well-placed Spanish words he describes his thoughts throughout the rest of the day, his fear at each new subject and his relief when he made it through each one before he began to panic about the next step. He writes about being saved by a basket of Spanish libros he could read, the relief of being able to write in Spanish, and how he appreciated having a peer translator in math to help him explain his thinking when he knew the right answer.
I'd love to print the story here for you but it's not my story to tell. It's so well crafted that I hope he'll submit it to some journals that publish student work. If he wants it on-line he'll share it himself. You'll have to take my word for it on how he perfectly describes the experience of an ESOL student's first day.
I made a copy of the story for myself. I want to be able to re-read it when I'm thinking of how to integrate students into the classroom, how to make the room welcoming, and more importantly, how small moments in a day can stay with a child forever. How little things we do, things we don't even think about because we're so busy trying to stay on top of paperwork and meetings, are truly significant to each child. So significant that the child will remember them years later. Our small actions, good or bad, can stay with our students forever. In kindergarten and first grade it's easy to think that they are so little that they'll recover from a bad day in school, or that they'll be flexible and simply jump into the routines easily. Realizing that five years later they will no longer be small children but fifth grade authors who are capable of looking back and articulating their experiences clearly is important. We're not just teaching children, we're teaching future adults who just happen to be children right now.*
To be honest I do not have much memory from his first day. I'm sure I was told about 20 minutes before the school day started that I was getting a new student, and it probably was not until I met him that I learned he did not speak English. This is common at our school and we usually expect that new students transferring in will be English-language learners. My class that year was an interesting bunch that kept me on my toes and I'm thankful that something went well enough that day that this little boy felt like he could survive the year. I'm more thankful and in awe that 5 years later he shared his story with me, a story that will stay with me forever, reminding me of the future adult inside each five year old while giving me insight into what it is like to start school when you do not speak the language.
*This is what my husband keeps reminding me of when I think of baby names. Whenever I propose something fabulous like Bunny he simply replies that we're not naming a baby, we're naming an adult who will happen to use the name as a baby. Then he makes me say the name like I'm answering the phone as president of a company. "Hello, Bunny Lipstick speaking" doesn't instill much confidence...
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
shameless
The school year has come to the point where while we are all still teaching our lovely hearts out we are also very focused on everything we need to do in the next week before we can start summer break. My to-do list is filled with end of year paperwork. Most of my co-teachers to-do lists are filled with packing. Packing up the books, crayon holders, math supplies, computers, reading book, files, games, posters, calendar, etc. Anything that we've used to do our job in the past year must be put into a box for storage over the summer. Is there any other profession that is required to pack up every pen, pencil, and important job-related tool every 9 months only to unpack it again a month or two later?
We're at the point in the year when we all want boxes. We don't just want boxes- we NEED boxes. Boxes are what can keep us from starting summer break when we want to. We can't leave until we're packed and we can't pack until we have... boxes. It's every man for himself at this point- sharing a box with a neighbor just puts you an hour off of leaving. Or a day later if you don't get a box to pack in until after the kids leave. It's not a pretty scene.
As we were walking the kids to lunch I noticed a man grunting over the water fountain as he tried to fix it. He was clearly frustrated and hard at work, but beside him as a large, beautiful box. Inside it was another water fountain, but that could be taken out, couldn't it? How important is it to him to have a box to carry his water fountain back to his truck? I mean, he could probably carry it all by himself if he just gave me the box.
He didn't see it that way.
The kids stared at me oddly, wondering why my voice had gone so pleading and desperate when only moments before I'd been in full teacher-mode.
I am still boxless. Boxless and apparently shameless.
We're at the point in the year when we all want boxes. We don't just want boxes- we NEED boxes. Boxes are what can keep us from starting summer break when we want to. We can't leave until we're packed and we can't pack until we have... boxes. It's every man for himself at this point- sharing a box with a neighbor just puts you an hour off of leaving. Or a day later if you don't get a box to pack in until after the kids leave. It's not a pretty scene.
As we were walking the kids to lunch I noticed a man grunting over the water fountain as he tried to fix it. He was clearly frustrated and hard at work, but beside him as a large, beautiful box. Inside it was another water fountain, but that could be taken out, couldn't it? How important is it to him to have a box to carry his water fountain back to his truck? I mean, he could probably carry it all by himself if he just gave me the box.
He didn't see it that way.
The kids stared at me oddly, wondering why my voice had gone so pleading and desperate when only moments before I'd been in full teacher-mode.
I am still boxless. Boxless and apparently shameless.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Is a masters worth it?
I've read a lot in the education policy blogs out there about how teachers shouldn't be given pay raises just because they have a masters because data shows that teachers with masters degrees aren't any more effective than teachers without masters degrees. I suppose I understand the beginning of that argument- why should ineffective teachers with masters degrees get paid more than effective teachers without the degree? What we're being paid for is what happens in the classroom with the kids.
The thing is, every time I hear that argument I cringe. My masters degree made me a much more effective teacher. I learned important background on child development, how children learn, and how to intervene when some children do not learn. I gained a new perspective, learned strategies I could immediately apply in the classroom, and understood the difference between a teaching strategy that looks like it should work and one that is actually research based and does work. My masters degree turned me into the data-obsessed freak I am today. (I try to hide this most of the time, but I have to admit, I love my data).
Maybe it's where I got my masters, or that I happened to have excellent professors who had both their phd and for the most part continued to teach in the school system, but I have a hard time understanding how people end up walking away from their masters without being more effective teachers. I believe it can happen, but does it really happen as often some education policy people argue?
I worry that the "masters degree isn't worth it" argument encourages teachers to not get their masters degree, assuming there is nothing more for them to learn. And no one in life should assume they have already learned all there is to know.
It also sends a message to everyone that education degrees are simply a waste of time and that you don't need quality training to be a good teacher. This terrifies me the most. I thought I knew a lot about education and how teaching should work before I took any education classes, but both my undergrad classes and my masters classes (and now my doctorate classes) continue to show me better, more effective ways to teach. What I thought I knew before is so far off from the reality of what is good teaching.
The thing is, every time I hear that argument I cringe. My masters degree made me a much more effective teacher. I learned important background on child development, how children learn, and how to intervene when some children do not learn. I gained a new perspective, learned strategies I could immediately apply in the classroom, and understood the difference between a teaching strategy that looks like it should work and one that is actually research based and does work. My masters degree turned me into the data-obsessed freak I am today. (I try to hide this most of the time, but I have to admit, I love my data).
Maybe it's where I got my masters, or that I happened to have excellent professors who had both their phd and for the most part continued to teach in the school system, but I have a hard time understanding how people end up walking away from their masters without being more effective teachers. I believe it can happen, but does it really happen as often some education policy people argue?
I worry that the "masters degree isn't worth it" argument encourages teachers to not get their masters degree, assuming there is nothing more for them to learn. And no one in life should assume they have already learned all there is to know.
It also sends a message to everyone that education degrees are simply a waste of time and that you don't need quality training to be a good teacher. This terrifies me the most. I thought I knew a lot about education and how teaching should work before I took any education classes, but both my undergrad classes and my masters classes (and now my doctorate classes) continue to show me better, more effective ways to teach. What I thought I knew before is so far off from the reality of what is good teaching.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
interview questions
A few years ago I wrote about interview questions I'd want to ask if I ever needed to interview at another school. Some were real questions and some were the questions I'd want to ask but would obviously need to be phrased differently...
One was a question about how an administration deals with an angry parent. Do they support the teacher or do they support the parent? How do they mediate the situation? In my post from 2008 I'd written about a scenario as a joke, but in actual practice it's not so funny. I recently had a friend who teaches at another school get called into the Principal's office only so a parent could yell at her. The principal sat there calmly while the parent just attacked the teacher for various reasons. As the parent ended his rant, stood up and walked out the principal looked at the teacher and shrugged. "Just let it roll off your back, he needed to get that out. Don't worry about it, we know you were in the right."
Having a principal say that you are in the right doesn't really do much to make up for the fact the principal set up a scenario that allowed you to be attacked. Who wants to go to work everyday knowing that at anytime they could be yelled at for doing the right thing? I personally would lose a lot of trust in my principal if I was set up in a meeting like that.
Recently the administration at the think-tank passed my interview question with flying colors. An upset parent, a busy time of year, students with spring fever, the final days of state testing- all cumulating together to create the perfect storm, and yet I have never felt more supported by my administration. I was proud to work at the think-tank where administrators take the time to listen to parent concerns along with teacher concerns and mediate the best they can. I walked out of what could have been a meeting that drove me straight out of teaching knowing that I was teaching in a place where the children come first above all else. No administrator decided the quickest and easiest way to get the situation out of the way was to just let the parent yell, or to ignore the parent and let the teachers deal with the situation on our own. Instead our administration took the time to thoughtfully consider where everyone was coming from, but more importantly, kept the needs of the child in mind.
Being an administrator is difficult work, and I frequently hear from teachers at other schools about how their administrators decide to handle problems by not supporting the people in the school who have the most contact and make the most impact with students. Recent media seems to encourage this "get the teachers" philosophy- administrators need to straighten up those bad teachers, get them to shape up and ship out. It's easy after watching movies like Waiting for Superman to jump on the bad teacher bandwagon and immediately assume teachers are in the wrong whenever you hear of a conflict within a school. It takes a thoughtful, conscientious administrator to take the time to consider all aspects of the situation and act not on what is the easiest solution, but on what is the best solution. From stories I hear there are not many of those administrators out there.
One was a question about how an administration deals with an angry parent. Do they support the teacher or do they support the parent? How do they mediate the situation? In my post from 2008 I'd written about a scenario as a joke, but in actual practice it's not so funny. I recently had a friend who teaches at another school get called into the Principal's office only so a parent could yell at her. The principal sat there calmly while the parent just attacked the teacher for various reasons. As the parent ended his rant, stood up and walked out the principal looked at the teacher and shrugged. "Just let it roll off your back, he needed to get that out. Don't worry about it, we know you were in the right."
Having a principal say that you are in the right doesn't really do much to make up for the fact the principal set up a scenario that allowed you to be attacked. Who wants to go to work everyday knowing that at anytime they could be yelled at for doing the right thing? I personally would lose a lot of trust in my principal if I was set up in a meeting like that.
Recently the administration at the think-tank passed my interview question with flying colors. An upset parent, a busy time of year, students with spring fever, the final days of state testing- all cumulating together to create the perfect storm, and yet I have never felt more supported by my administration. I was proud to work at the think-tank where administrators take the time to listen to parent concerns along with teacher concerns and mediate the best they can. I walked out of what could have been a meeting that drove me straight out of teaching knowing that I was teaching in a place where the children come first above all else. No administrator decided the quickest and easiest way to get the situation out of the way was to just let the parent yell, or to ignore the parent and let the teachers deal with the situation on our own. Instead our administration took the time to thoughtfully consider where everyone was coming from, but more importantly, kept the needs of the child in mind.
Being an administrator is difficult work, and I frequently hear from teachers at other schools about how their administrators decide to handle problems by not supporting the people in the school who have the most contact and make the most impact with students. Recent media seems to encourage this "get the teachers" philosophy- administrators need to straighten up those bad teachers, get them to shape up and ship out. It's easy after watching movies like Waiting for Superman to jump on the bad teacher bandwagon and immediately assume teachers are in the wrong whenever you hear of a conflict within a school. It takes a thoughtful, conscientious administrator to take the time to consider all aspects of the situation and act not on what is the easiest solution, but on what is the best solution. From stories I hear there are not many of those administrators out there.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Katie loves the kittens (and Pixie loves Katie)
One of my new favorite books is Katie Loves the Kittens by John Himmelman. When my partner-in-crime first read it she began giggling and handed me the book saying, "This describes Pixie perfectly". And it does.
Pixie must recognize this on some level because she also LOVES Katie and the kittens. She is dying to have it read and re-read to her and frequently wants to talk about Katie and how Katie can't control herself because the kittens are so cute.
You see, Katie is a dog whose owner Sara Ann just got three little kittens. Katie is SO excited by the kittens she runs around the house howling (scaring the kittens). She gets sad because she scares the kittens and tries so hard not to, but then after trying and trying to control herself she breaks down and howls again. Your heart goes out to Katie who really, really wants to do the right thing- but it's just so hard. In the end she wakes up with the kittens on top of her, and then has to try her hardest to stay still so the kittens will keep cuddling with her. She succeeds and everyone is a happy cuddling pile of pets.
If you are familiar with a very caring but impulsive five year old I highly recommend that you read the book. It's a good reminder of how well-meaning our little friends are despite their impulsive actions.
Pixie must recognize this on some level because she also LOVES Katie and the kittens. She is dying to have it read and re-read to her and frequently wants to talk about Katie and how Katie can't control herself because the kittens are so cute.
You see, Katie is a dog whose owner Sara Ann just got three little kittens. Katie is SO excited by the kittens she runs around the house howling (scaring the kittens). She gets sad because she scares the kittens and tries so hard not to, but then after trying and trying to control herself she breaks down and howls again. Your heart goes out to Katie who really, really wants to do the right thing- but it's just so hard. In the end she wakes up with the kittens on top of her, and then has to try her hardest to stay still so the kittens will keep cuddling with her. She succeeds and everyone is a happy cuddling pile of pets.
If you are familiar with a very caring but impulsive five year old I highly recommend that you read the book. It's a good reminder of how well-meaning our little friends are despite their impulsive actions.
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