Oh man. I guess this blog has gotten a bit ignored in the last few weeks, that got very crazy. I guess when it comes down to those crazy times, blogging is not what I turn to. And that's ok, although it means I am going to shut it down after this post.
The kids went camping at the end of April, and something happened. I thought it was supposed to be good for them. I guess in certain ways it was. There are real friendships among the girls that didn't exist before. There are a few kids who are showing some kindness, and some confidence, that they didn't have before.
But as a group, they are even more unruly than before. I thought it was just me, but Mr. Lee said, in the last two weeks or so, that we just needed to keep them out of a large group situation as much as possible; that the paramount consideration needed to be the group dynamics.
What do I mean by that? Two minutes cannot not go by without a put-down. One student, K, all of a sudden has Tourrette's- violent tics that come fast and furious and that she can't control. The Gang of Four- K, R, N & C- cannot prevent themselves, apparently, from bringing the whole class down. Two of them honestly may not have the cognitive capacity to understand exactly what they are doing. The other two do; one doesn't believe she can control herself, and the other can but he just doesn't want to because he doesn't think he should be in this class.
Read-alouds, morning meeting, any kind of activity will, in literally two minutes, dissolve into:
"Stop LOOKING AT ME!"
"Why are you starting a conflict with me?"
"I can't SEE!"
"Don't PUSH me!"
"Come ON, this is BORING..."
"YOU stop!" "No, YOU stop!" "NO, YOU!" and on and on.
Honestly, their behavior is like a bunch of grouchy kindergartners, and it's all anyone can do to complete a thought in their presence. They are like this on field trips; they are like this for activities they love.
The only times they are not is when they are completely absorbed in a hands-on activity, like the drumming workshop, or modeling their animals out of clay, although both of these activities still took the complete attention of 5-7 adults to one or the other of them at all times in order to keep everyone on task. You've got maybe 30 minutes of relative peace.
Academically, they have all progressed, and some are beginning to really grown socially. As a group, they are a complete & utter disaster. It made me so sad to leave them in this state last week.
Mr. Lee assures me it's the time of year, as well as being a dynamic that cannot be diagnosed or averted, but just gotten through.
Still, my departure was sweet. Many of them wrote and spoke reflections of me that used more language than I thought they were capable of. I got hugs and accolades from unlikely suspects, who had aggressively kept their distance until, well, now, or so I thought.
I said I would visit, and I will. And I hope I can visit them next year too, since most of them will still be with Mr. Lee. I love them each for their own special ways that they have. But boy did they keep us running hard these last three weeks....
This semester, more than the fall, has been a real perception-changing experience. I would not trade it for anything, and I would not trade my chance to get to know these kids, in particular, for anything. I hope I never lose this edge- the ability to reach, if only with my mind and my awareness, these kids and see, maybe just a little, what they need.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Saturday, April 27, 2013
Working hard, and more testing
Before last week's tests began, my students worked so hard and did me proud. My advisor observed me the day before the math testing began. They started that day with a math lesson on measurement, then we did storytelling, which they hadn't done in a while, and learned about the word "artifact." They did an activity around how to look at artifacts.
Then, after lunch, they did a very challenging artifact study, behaving as if they were in a museum studying artifacts. We had to go back and reorganize the items, and ask that students not touch them, as that caused problems during the lesson, but we were able to regroup so that everyone was able to study them closely without touching. Nice recovery.
They were incredibly focused during the study, and did some beautiful work. They didn't want to stop, even though that artifact study went over an hour, and including the morning introduction, they had been doing artifact work for two hours. Between that and measurement, their brains were full, but they still did some scientific observation as part of their animal studies at the end of the day! Amazing.
The next day, Shamiqua* was really discouraged by the first day of the math test. She dragged her feet, and her coat, getting to the cafeteria. I had her and another girl, Oksana*, who is not known for her patience (unless *she* is trying to get ready, in which case she becomes enraged if you rush her at all- but anyway!). Shamiqua is shuffling down the hall at a glacial pace, coat dragging behind her; Oksana and I are 20 feet ahead, waiting for her to catch up. I figured Oksana would have some impatient comment for poor Shamiqua.
But no. In what was, for her, a very rare show of empathy, this is what Oksana did. She walked back to Shamiqua and stood beside her. Then, she matched her pace, step for step, all the way to the cafeteria. It took about 10 minutes, and every other class in the school, it seems like, pushed past them on the stairs, but it didn't matter. They were in their own slow space, not talking, but sharing nonetheless. I told Oksana she was my superstar for the day, and she gave me one of her very rare, non-smirking, very beautiful smiles, and said, "Why?"
*names are not real
Then, after lunch, they did a very challenging artifact study, behaving as if they were in a museum studying artifacts. We had to go back and reorganize the items, and ask that students not touch them, as that caused problems during the lesson, but we were able to regroup so that everyone was able to study them closely without touching. Nice recovery.
They were incredibly focused during the study, and did some beautiful work. They didn't want to stop, even though that artifact study went over an hour, and including the morning introduction, they had been doing artifact work for two hours. Between that and measurement, their brains were full, but they still did some scientific observation as part of their animal studies at the end of the day! Amazing.
The next day, Shamiqua* was really discouraged by the first day of the math test. She dragged her feet, and her coat, getting to the cafeteria. I had her and another girl, Oksana*, who is not known for her patience (unless *she* is trying to get ready, in which case she becomes enraged if you rush her at all- but anyway!). Shamiqua is shuffling down the hall at a glacial pace, coat dragging behind her; Oksana and I are 20 feet ahead, waiting for her to catch up. I figured Oksana would have some impatient comment for poor Shamiqua.
But no. In what was, for her, a very rare show of empathy, this is what Oksana did. She walked back to Shamiqua and stood beside her. Then, she matched her pace, step for step, all the way to the cafeteria. It took about 10 minutes, and every other class in the school, it seems like, pushed past them on the stairs, but it didn't matter. They were in their own slow space, not talking, but sharing nonetheless. I told Oksana she was my superstar for the day, and she gave me one of her very rare, non-smirking, very beautiful smiles, and said, "Why?"
*names are not real
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
A Happier Time
We're fully in the throes of testing now, on Day 2, and it's starting to wear on everyone. The kids are grouchy and on edge, the teachers' tempers are frayed. I was thinking back to happier moments earlier, before they ever saw that darn test and felt real fear.
It was Movement, which is a time of the week that the kids really love. Pedro, who teaches it, has a great way with the kids, girls and boys alike, getting them to be in the moment in an authentic way that they can understand. He had them pair off and do an activity that goes like this: Student A says "one," Student B says "two," Student A says "three," and they start over, two people counting to three. They really have to pay close attention to each other.
One of my students, Jean-Pierre, did something really sweet. He was working with Carlos, who is an English Language Learner. So, completely unbidden, instead of saying, "One, two, three," he did his counting in Spanish. Really sweet. Carlos' English and Spanish abilities are about equal (he has a language delay), but it showed a lot of social intelligence on Jean-Pierre's part to come up with this on the fly.
All the adults in the room (six of them) wanted to high-five Jean-Pierre, and all of us gave him a ton of praise. He looked at us suspiciously, accepting the praise grudgingly. I asked him point-blank whether he knew what he had done to deserve all that. "No," he said, with a frown. I told him what a smart thing it was that he did. He gave me a rare, beautiful smile.
Seeing how these kids are struggling with the testing, I feel like I may never see that smile again.
It was Movement, which is a time of the week that the kids really love. Pedro, who teaches it, has a great way with the kids, girls and boys alike, getting them to be in the moment in an authentic way that they can understand. He had them pair off and do an activity that goes like this: Student A says "one," Student B says "two," Student A says "three," and they start over, two people counting to three. They really have to pay close attention to each other.
One of my students, Jean-Pierre, did something really sweet. He was working with Carlos, who is an English Language Learner. So, completely unbidden, instead of saying, "One, two, three," he did his counting in Spanish. Really sweet. Carlos' English and Spanish abilities are about equal (he has a language delay), but it showed a lot of social intelligence on Jean-Pierre's part to come up with this on the fly.
All the adults in the room (six of them) wanted to high-five Jean-Pierre, and all of us gave him a ton of praise. He looked at us suspiciously, accepting the praise grudgingly. I asked him point-blank whether he knew what he had done to deserve all that. "No," he said, with a frown. I told him what a smart thing it was that he did. He gave me a rare, beautiful smile.
Seeing how these kids are struggling with the testing, I feel like I may never see that smile again.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Shoes
My student Hannah came to school today looking cute, wearing a new pair of flats. Unfortunately, they were too small and it immediately became apparent that they were hurting her feet. She was miserable by third period, and one of the paras went to see if there were some flip-flops in the building, since it was so warm.
While she was crying, I remembered that I had a pair of very flimsy flats in my bag. These are the kind they sell at the drug store for women who wear high heels, so they can wear them home when they break a heel or just can't stand it for another second. I had them from my old job, and didn't want to throw them out, so I stuck them in my school bag. They'd been there for months.
I gave them to Hannah (they were a little big but not too much). She was so happy. The paras told me she was swinging her feet, admiring her comfy shoes and grinning from ear to ear all the way through third period and lunch.
It's the little things!
Monday, April 8, 2013
Holy moly
Wow, time flies. It feels close to the end already. Students begin their first year of testing next week (third graders), which is 3 days out of each of the next two weeks. Then they go on a 3-day grade-wide camping trip (which my fourth-graders are going on). They return the first of May. My placement ends on the 17th.
I feel like this has gone too fast. The fall felt fairly slow, even with the week we missed for Sandy. I have only barely gotten to know these kids. Help!
I will plan to visit them in June. But still: I am marveling at how fast it's gone. I could teach them all summer and still be fascinated, and want to come back every day to learn more. I can only hope for their sakes that they're sick of me already:)
I feel like this has gone too fast. The fall felt fairly slow, even with the week we missed for Sandy. I have only barely gotten to know these kids. Help!
I will plan to visit them in June. But still: I am marveling at how fast it's gone. I could teach them all summer and still be fascinated, and want to come back every day to learn more. I can only hope for their sakes that they're sick of me already:)
Friday, March 22, 2013
Extreme Teaching
It's Spring Break, finally, and I am looking forward to the break. Not that I don't love my students. My placement at ABPS is wonderful. All the adults in the room work really well together, which is huge, since there's 5 of us. It's a joy and a pleasure and I learn so much watching Mr. Lee. But it is a workout: my husband calls it Extreme Teaching. New sport on ESPN 2.
Seriously: just for starters, you have a few students who need a lot of language to stay engaged, and you have a few who get about two words out of every sentence or phrase you utter. Everyone else is in between, so you have 30-45 seconds to focus their attention on something visual, and about 6 minutes before you lose them- pretty small window for a lesson. Then you have students who are really only engaged with movement or processes; others who hate such things and prefer to draw or look at visuals. I have a reading group that is four kids: two get easily discouraged, two who have noticeably fewer oral-language skills than the other two, and one who absolutely cannot sit still for longer than it takes him to read the text. It's tough. I have a math group of three students and they are in the same group because they don't have place value yet, but there the similarities end.
Individually they're unique, engaging, funny and wonderful. Some of them come from less than ideal circumstances, a few stories that will really break your heart in there as well. Most of them are mercurial in their moods- something small that you didn't catch can throw them into a black, unproductive mood for a long time. They cry a lot. They hit sometimes- too many times. They aren't as nice to each other as I'd like them to be. They're pretty darn hard on themselves, too.
So while I am already missing the morning hugs I get from many of them, I am also ready for a break.
Although I have to say, the moments that they are kind, and the displays of mature, calm behavior, (which are not at all infrequent) shine like stars in contrast to the many, many conversations we have as a group about mindfulness, about conflict and being conflict-solvers, about wasting time and saving time.
It's quite something to watch how they respond to these ideas. Even the students without a great deal of language can understand from the many, many examples we discuss. I think, on balance, these kids try harder for more of the day than your average students: there's fewer of them, nowhere to hide and Mr. Lee does not give them a pass. But it never seems to get easier to see how many things are so hard for them. I know they will miss school, too, although they may not miss me specifically. I hope they have some fun this week.
Seriously: just for starters, you have a few students who need a lot of language to stay engaged, and you have a few who get about two words out of every sentence or phrase you utter. Everyone else is in between, so you have 30-45 seconds to focus their attention on something visual, and about 6 minutes before you lose them- pretty small window for a lesson. Then you have students who are really only engaged with movement or processes; others who hate such things and prefer to draw or look at visuals. I have a reading group that is four kids: two get easily discouraged, two who have noticeably fewer oral-language skills than the other two, and one who absolutely cannot sit still for longer than it takes him to read the text. It's tough. I have a math group of three students and they are in the same group because they don't have place value yet, but there the similarities end.
Individually they're unique, engaging, funny and wonderful. Some of them come from less than ideal circumstances, a few stories that will really break your heart in there as well. Most of them are mercurial in their moods- something small that you didn't catch can throw them into a black, unproductive mood for a long time. They cry a lot. They hit sometimes- too many times. They aren't as nice to each other as I'd like them to be. They're pretty darn hard on themselves, too.
So while I am already missing the morning hugs I get from many of them, I am also ready for a break.
Although I have to say, the moments that they are kind, and the displays of mature, calm behavior, (which are not at all infrequent) shine like stars in contrast to the many, many conversations we have as a group about mindfulness, about conflict and being conflict-solvers, about wasting time and saving time.
It's quite something to watch how they respond to these ideas. Even the students without a great deal of language can understand from the many, many examples we discuss. I think, on balance, these kids try harder for more of the day than your average students: there's fewer of them, nowhere to hide and Mr. Lee does not give them a pass. But it never seems to get easier to see how many things are so hard for them. I know they will miss school, too, although they may not miss me specifically. I hope they have some fun this week.
Friday, March 15, 2013
Tortured Metaphor, or How to Teach Reading Comprehension
It's like this: you're in a forest, with your teachers and also your students. Your teachers say, "Please teach your students about trees. Teach them about trees using the example of an elm." OK, fine, but I really like pine trees, and, well, oaks are good too, and here's a beech, and you know what, none of them has leaves right now, so which one is an elm again? And your teachers say, "OK, but make sure you pick a kind of tree that's right for your students."
This is what I feel like when asked to teach reading comprehension. It's not clear to me what trees, or strategies, will work well. All the trees seem appealing; I want students to love them all equally. That is to say, it's very difficult for me to distinguish between texts and techniques. I know very well that the only thing to do is go in and try it, and get a sense of it for myself. I did dive in, during a lesson that my advisor was observing, and thank goodness she was there because she saved my bacon during guided reading. Whew.
The three teachers I know the best: E, E and A, all have this same clarity of mind. I've seen them all perform magic in front of students, occasionally saving a derailed lesson of mine in the process. I've seen science lessons where, with just a plant in front of him, A has them all on the edge of their seat, asking just the right questions, having just enough discussion, making them think just hard enough. It's art, for sure.
I know it comes from years of experience, and the only way out is through, as they say. It's like being a white belt again: I just have to put my head down and train until I start to have some skills of my own. But in the meantime... the trees. It's tough walking around this forest!!
This is what I feel like when asked to teach reading comprehension. It's not clear to me what trees, or strategies, will work well. All the trees seem appealing; I want students to love them all equally. That is to say, it's very difficult for me to distinguish between texts and techniques. I know very well that the only thing to do is go in and try it, and get a sense of it for myself. I did dive in, during a lesson that my advisor was observing, and thank goodness she was there because she saved my bacon during guided reading. Whew.
The three teachers I know the best: E, E and A, all have this same clarity of mind. I've seen them all perform magic in front of students, occasionally saving a derailed lesson of mine in the process. I've seen science lessons where, with just a plant in front of him, A has them all on the edge of their seat, asking just the right questions, having just enough discussion, making them think just hard enough. It's art, for sure.
I know it comes from years of experience, and the only way out is through, as they say. It's like being a white belt again: I just have to put my head down and train until I start to have some skills of my own. But in the meantime... the trees. It's tough walking around this forest!!
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