Exams--Or Why I Want To Beat My Head Against My Desk

Indulge me while I sound like your Grandpa for a moment.  When I was in high school, I had to study for my exams.  I am certain there was a certain amount of reviewing, but nothing like what I spent the last ten days doing.  I gave my students a study guide that literally had every single thing they needed to know for the exam.  Now, they should have had everything they needed to know already in their notes, but we then spent a week working on the study guide in class just in case. Then, the last class before the exam, I gave them a practice quiz that had the actual questions on the exam, we graded it, and I gave them the correct answers so they would know what to study.  To ensure that they actually filled out the study guide, I told them that if they brought the completed study guide to the exam, they would receive a 100 point test grade.  I would say 10% showed up without the study guide.  Another 10% showed up without the study guide filled in.  I cannot begin to tell you how many times I heard the words "What study guide?"  or "I didn't bring a pencil."  These are moments that try teachers' souls.

Another teacher came to me with his study guide and his exam and said, "I need to show this to someone who understands--here is my study guide and here is my exam.  How is it possible for people to be failing my exam?"  I looked at the two--basically identical.  If you took any time at all to look at the study guide, you had, in order, the questions on the exam.  It was even more straight-forward than my study guide.  I told him that the answer was simple; the students either took the opportunity to study and do well or they blew it off.   It is, as my friend Andrea would say, a metaphor for life.

So what can we do at this point?  The only option is to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.  Here are some of my favorites from our exams.  We laughed so we wouldn't cry.

Mine was primarily on The Odyssey. The epic starts with Odysseus telling of his time trapped with the beautiful sea goddess, Calypso.  They basically had a torried affair that last years and now he's back peddling, since he has a wife at home.  What's a man to do?  He claims in a very Bill Clinton-like way that he was trapped in her "smooth caves" and "never gave consent in his heart."  The kids loved this.  The boys in particular could relate to woman trouble.  They loved the very dirty and evocative metaphor of the "smooth caves."  I might have sarcastically said "dem caves" at one point.  Never did I dream someone would use that in their essay.  Does this student think that is the actual name of the caves?  No clue.

Odysseus was an epic hero.  He was brave and bold, and the essay I had them write asked that they give examples of that.  These essays are my two favorites.  On the left you can see a discussion of

how Odysseus has no qualms saying "F___ that!" when the circumstances call for it, and on the right, how he has the balls to fight the Cyclops with confidence.  To give my student on the left credit, he didn't actually write out the F word--but I knew what he meant.  So here is my challenge, they clearly get the qualities of an epic hero, they read and understood the story, but their language is completely inappropriate.  Frankly, I'm just glad they studied.  We can have the "you don't write a paper with the same language you talk to your friends" convo when we get back in January.  P.S.  These are my Honors English students.

Here are a couple good ones from my frustrated Social Studies teacher buddy:

Question:  How did the Hebrew people change religion?
Answer:  They were Jews.

That makes me laugh for days.  It is also amusing that this person goes on to say that the Jews were Polytheistic.  Here is another good answer to that question on the right.  Trade.  How would trade change religion exactly?  They traded a bunch of gods for just one?  Please take a moment and look at the answer to #3.  Do you recognize that word?  We didn't and we really spent some time trying to figure it out.  If you have a guess, please let me know.  It might boost that person's grade a bit. 

Remember that episode of "Friends" where Chandler says that he can't find a girlfriend because his  standards are too high?  One of the reasons he gives is her mispronunciation of the word "supposedly."  Do you think this could be that person's relative? 

Question:  Did you spend over a week prepping your students for the exams?
Answer:  Supposibly.

Fantastic Voyage

Real note I sent home with one of my Yearbook students:

 

Dear Derrell’s Mother,

 

Why doesn’t your son know who Coolio is? 

 

Slide, Slide, Slippedy Slide,

Miz Nilknarf

 

I was just so stunned that one of my kids would have no idea who the genius was who brought us “Gangsta’s Paradise,” that I felt it couldn’t possibly be true!  Full disclosure:  I have a great relationship with this kid’s mom.   Yearbook is so much more fun than it was last year.  I have such a creative group of students who blow my mind with their creativity.  Sometimes I embarrass myself (and them) by jumping up and down, hugging them, and yelling, “Oh! That is so brilliant!  I am so proud of you!!!” and then they tell me how white I am and I remind them that I know who Coolio is and they don’t.  

 

Moving on, I got another apple last week!  The student who gave it to me is a goofy, white kid, whose name is unfortunately, Melvin.*  I totally love him.  You have to imagine the hell of being a goofy, white 9^th grader at my school named Melvin.   He works really hard, never is a problem, and is always very respectful.  Today, I received a request to come to a child study (an evaluation for a possible learning disability) at the request of his foster parent.  I died a little.  That sweet boy is in foster care.  My first thought was, “Ok, I need to ask Mr. Nilknarf if we can adopt him.”  I’m really bad about this.  I want to bring all of my needy students into my home, as if living with me would fix everything and save them.  I was relieved to find out from his counselor that his foster parent is a wonderful woman who really loves him. 

 

As teachers, we hear many negative things.  From the snide, “must be nice to get your summers off!” to “I could NEVER do that job,” the comments can get demoralizing.  What people do not get, is we don’t do it just because we love the subjects we teach.  We do it for the kids like Melvin.  Next time, instead of making a negative (however well-intentioned) comment about how much our jobs must suck and how you don’t know how we do it, just thank us for what we do for kids.  If you have time, ask to hear a story about a kid who made it worth it for us.  It will make us both feel better about teaching. 

 

*This isn’t really his name, but it is something equally white and old timey. 

And it didn't even have poision or a razor blade in it!

I want to start out by saying that a student actually gave me an apple today.  I’m not kidding.  Am I suddenly teaching in an elementary school in Mayberry in the 50s?  Not quite, but 9^th grade has been a pleasant surprise.   

Several factors have made this year a little slice of heaven.  The first, 9^th graders are kind of precious.  They are old enough to be funny, young enough to still have a little baby in them.  I dig it.  Second, we have a largely new Admin team this year and everyone has come together to crack down on these little darlings big time.  We are sequestered on the second floor—it is very peaceful up here.  Also, the minute the little rascals hit the top of the steps with their hats, inappropriate t-shirts, crop tops, and sagging pants, they are unceremoniously yanked into the office and dealt with. This usually involves making them wear a really long, ugly t-shirt that leaves them moaning in horror.  It is a beautiful thing.  Finally, unlike any other grade, the entire 9^th grade staff meets as a team twice a week.  This is so helpful.  In particular, I love how we discuss the kids facing challenges (academically or behaviorally) and then strategize.  We have a great group upstairs, including my buddy Mr. B next door, who always fixes my computer, carries heavy things for me, and fills the void that Mr. I left by discussing Howard Stern with me.  I also love Mr. J and his endless supply of "Deez Nutz" jokes, which to paraphrase Ferris Bueller, is childish and ridiculous, but then so is high school.  Soooo…yes, I apologized to both my department chair and administrator for being a huge whiner about being moved because I really do love it.

I am getting to know my students and for the most part, I was totally in love by the end of week one.  I had them fill out a short getting to know you survey and their answers made me laugh, as well as gave me great insight.  A few of my favorite answers:

What is the one thing I should know about you in order to be the best teacher I can be for you? 

Don’t yell a lot, just when needed.  (I really try to never yell.  However, it is nice to know that when needed, I have the thumbs up.)

I struggle with school sometimes.  (Stuff like this kills me.)

I don’t like to be called on.  (Many say this, along with ‘I don’t like to read out loud.’  I honor it for a bit, but typically once they feel comfortable and realize I give out candy for participation, it becomes a non-issue.)

I like to be outside.  (Me, too!  Let’s start a beach school!)

Inspire me!  (No pressure, right?)

What language is spoken at home? (Amazingly, I have learned enough Spanish to make it work when I call home, but I do need a translator for some things.)

Spanglish.  (All righty, then.)

Do you have a preferred place to sit in the classroom?

In the middle, so I can have a good vibe with the front and back of the classroom. (I’m not sure what this means, but that’s cool, man.)

I like to sit alone, in a corner.  (Awesome.)

X and X don’t like me, please don’t put me near them and let this be our secret.  (This is the exact reason I put this question on the survey.  Can you imagine being seated next to someone who had tortured you in the past?)

What was the last book you read?

Some book about a rat.  (I don’t know why this amuses me so much, but I have been laughing about it for 2 weeks.)

Describe yourself in four words?

Weird.  (That’s not four words.)

Learnable, Teachable, Respect, Athletic.  (Heavy sigh…)

I need more words. (Well, that is four words.)

Quiet, Outspoken, Mean, Outgoing  (This young lady is the one mentioned above that the poor girl doesn’t want to sit next to.   I guess she wasn’t being paranoid.)

If you were in a terrible accident, had to have your arm amputated, and the doctor gave you the option of having your arm replaced with a baby-sized arm or a lobster claw, which would you pick and why? (This may seem silly, but it shows me how creative they are.  Also, I did not come up with the question.  If you are a teacher and you don’t read the blog called Love, Teach, you absolutely must).

Lobster claw.  So I can pinch mean people.  (If ever there was a good reason to have a lobster claw….)

Lobster claw, so people could be all, “Oh, he’s half lobster!” (I mean, technically, you’d only be like 1/8^th at most, but I get your drift.)

I don’t feel comfortable answering this.  (This answer made me laugh the hardest.  This is an uptight, little, white kid.  I’m sure he thinks I’m insane.)

Baby arm, because a lobster claw is weird. (Oh, but a baby arm is perfectly normal.)

Lobster claw, because I can pick up heavy objects and crack peanuts.  (Good point.  Very practical.)

Baby sized arm, so I can still use it when I dance.  (True, but how awesome would it be to have the lobster claw at weddings when they play Rock Lobster?)

What fresh hell is this? Ninth grade...

Well, the end of my third year has finally arrived.  I now have "tenure" or continuing contract status.  Basically, this means I have a level of job security I did not previously have and I'm no longer on probation.  I am really proud to share that I had a fantastic review and received an "exemplary" rating in two out of seven categories (and apparently, Admin was told to be very sparing in giving them out).  Of course, with any pro there is a con, and the con is that I have been asked to teach 9th grade next year, the one grade I swore I would never teach. 

When I first found out, I was absolutely horrified.  I'm not a fan of middle schoolers, and our 9th graders are typically low on the maturity spectrum.  I ran in a panic to my administrator and said, "Ninth grade?!  WHY?!  Am I being punished?"*  I was buttered up with all kinds of compliments about my teaching and leadership skills and next thing ya know, I agreed to do it (not that I really had a choice).

There are some plus sides.  There is no 9th grade English SOL, thus eliminating that nightmare and my yearly SOL-induced breakdown.  I will be teaching honors for the first time and I am excited about that (although who knows what "honors" really means with this population).  Even though I will have to start all over yet again with lesson plans, I really like the text book.  I have unilaterally hated the other three from previous years.   I will be upstairs, which is much more quiet (downside, it is notoriously hot up there).  With a new principal, there is a slight, SLIGHT, possibility that these kids may actually come in a little nervous and inclined to "respect mah authoritah."  Finally, I would be remiss if I did not mention closer proximity to my buddy Mr. W., who promises me that I will love 9th graders.

All in all, this has been a great year, with great kids.  As usual, I learned way more from them than they ever learned from me (especially if you look at their SOL scores!). I also maintain that my school has some of the finest educators in the business.  It takes a very specific type of person to work with that population  successfully and actually ENJOY it.  What a devoted, talented, crazy bunch I have the honor of working with!

Adios and Vaya con Dios

As for my summer plans, I plan on reading many trashy books, relishing sleeping in past 6:00 a.m. (if the dogs let me), and hopefully having my toes in the water and ass in the sand, so I can be ready for next year.

Life is good today. 


*Let me just say that having two of my own children go through those precious middle school years, were some of the worst of my parenting experience.  There is something very annoying, and faintly stinky, about middle schoolers. 

"You is Like my White Momma!"

Last year, I had the brilliant idea of making my students write letters to their teachers for Teacher Appreciation Week.  It was wildly successful and motivated so many teachers that I have done it again this year.  I always say something to the effect of, "I know I am everyone's favorite teacher, but if you have another teacher you would like to write to, please do.  I don't want anyone to feel like they have to suck up or be worried they will hurt my feelings."  Many write to me anyway, and I'm always and touched and amused by their thoughts. Last year, a student wrote "You is like my white momma!"  I will never forget it.  I am also shocked by who actually writes me.  It is often the person who I think hates me, or who has made little effort to interact with me, or this year, comes from the class I enjoy the least. 

Here are some gems from this year's letters (grammar and spelling intentionally not changed):

"Your really funny & whenever you get mad at people, it's even more funny.  Before the year is over, you should go in front of all the buses and start dancing."

"Your what I call a New School Party Animal with a spicy side if needed to be brought out." <what does this mean?  It sounds vaguely inappropriate!>

"I choose you as my favorite teacher to adknowledge because of your kindness, bad ass gangster coolness, and your humor and commitment towards your students." <this may be my favorite of the year>

"I feel comfortable in your class, which has definitely helped me since I am a newer student.  You know when to be funny and joyful in class which makes you that much better as my teacher."

"No matter how much you yell at me or give us alot of work your always here even when I'm failing your class."

"When I gave up on myself you was there and pushed me to do better."

<This one means so much because this student and I butted heads at the start of the year.> "Whenever I need help your there to help me.  Your a really nice teacher and you will always be there for your students no matter what."

"I appreciate the love you give to each and everyone of your students, especially me."

"I appreciate you because you didn't give up on me when I was straight up failing your class."

"At first I was like, 'Oh my gosh, this class is boring,' but now I love it."

Annnnnd a last minute entry that I just received at the end of the school day today (brace yourself),

"You always gives such good advice.  Member that time I was like Imma punch that bitch and you was like naw, don't do that?  I'm glad I listed to you." <I assume she means listened and I literally spit my drink out reading that one>.

How to Tame the Tigers

This year is my "tenure" year.  That means, that it is the end of my third year and that I have some job stability after this point.  Through this year, if there are cuts in my department, I am at risk.  Of course, the people who have joined the faculty more recently go first, but it happens.  As part of my tenure, I have to create this "justify my existence" binder that includes documentation in categories such as professional development, instructional delivery, and learning environment.  One thing that is to be included is my "classroom management philosophy."  It is ever-evolving, but as I end my third year, I feel like I have a decent handle on it.  So, for what it's worth--here it is:

Fred Jones, classroom management guru, says that you are either consistent or inconsistent.  There is no in between.  They key to successful management is a combination of clear and consistent expectations, and building strong student relationships.  The first day of school, I let my students know what the expectations are.  We review them daily for the first 2 weeks.  They never change.  I post my expectations in visible places around the room, as well as outside the classroom. 

Building strong relationships helps to reinforce those rules because a student will not behave for a teacher he does not respect.  If a student believes a teacher truly cares about him, he is more likely to follow classroom expectations.  I greet my students at the door each day, as if seeing them is the best thing that has happened to me all day.  I always say hello to them in the halls.  I compliment their clothes, nails, hair, and shoes.  I make an effort to know them—who their friends are, what their interests are, what their challenges are.  I attend as many school events as I can.  Many behaviors are attention seeking.  Especially with this population, students can be so desperate for attention that they do not care if it is positive or negative.  I reward positive behaviors (students are very motivated by candy) on a daily basis.  By giving positive attention, the negative attention-seeking behavior typically diminishes. 

I make a point to develop interesting lesson plans that my students will enjoy.  If I am bored teaching it, they most certainly are bored learning it.  I select literature and writing topics that are relatable and meaningful.  I change up activities every 15 minutes.  I do collaborative work often because not only does it give them a chance to engage and talk in an appropriate way, they really do learn from each other.  I use technology regularly –they love using the computers.  I have fully integrated Edmodo into my lesson planning.  I post handouts and power points, and use it for quizzes and tests.   An engaged student has far fewer opportunities to misbehave.

I believe that about 50% of behaviors can be ignored.  This is where good student relationships come in handy.  Typically, the class self-manages so other students will tell the offending student to be quiet or cut it out.  If there is an issue in class, I typically redirect or give a warning.  An ongoing or severe issue results in a student being asked to step outside.  Students will dig their own grave just to prove a point and not back down in front of their peers, so removing them gives them an opportunity to change the behavior without losing face.  Outside the classroom talks always come from a position of loving concern, never anger.  Our students see anger and hear yelling all the time and it has little impact.  I usually start with, “What’s going on?  You know better than that…”  I refer to the classroom expectations I have posted outside my classroom as a reminder that they do indeed know that is not acceptable behavior in my class.  I also throw in a “You know I care about you and your behavior really hurts my feelings…” That usually garners an apology.  High school is a difficult time and often their behavior is a direct reflection of some sort of stress unrelated to my class.  The outside conferences are always very quick and then we return to class.  If they need more time outside to calm down, I allow them that.  Then they can slip back in unnoticed while the rest of the class is working.

I develop parent relationships from Week 1.  I typically call every parent the first week of school to introduce myself.  One of my first teaching mentors told me, “There are few parent conversations that can’t be turned around by presenting your concern from the position that you want their student to be successful.”   I get emails and phone numbers and address any concerns I have upfront and document them.  MIRs* are also an excellent way to document a history of unacceptable behaviors.  This way, if there is a major issue that I have to turn over to administration, I have documentation of trying to address the behavior.

Finally, there are incidents of unacceptable behaviors that require immediate administrative action.  It is important to show the rest of the class that certain behaviors will not be tolerated, but with a minimal amount of disruption.  I try to stay calm and react from a place of stability rather than emotion.  There is nothing more satisfying to a student than to see that he has rattled a teacher.  Once the student is gone, I continue class like nothing happened.  The next time I see that student, I act like I always do.  There is always an opportunity for a fresh start in my class.  

*Minor Incident Reports--they serve as a written warning.  You get 3 in a 9 weeks and you get an administrative referral.

A sequel to "How You Gonna Fail Me?" entitled "Awwww HELL NO!"

Act I - in the Lecture Hall where Miz N is graciously spending her planning time proctoring an SOL.  Annie walks in and sees Miz N standing there.

Annie:  Awwww HELL NO!  I ain't goin' in there to take my SOL if she's gonna be in here!

Dr:  C:  Now Annie, you know you have to take this SOL.  Besides, Miz N is leaving with a smaller group of students; she won't even be in here...<quietly, to Miz N> She's such a delightful child, isn't she?

Miz N:  A dream!  Makes me excited to come to work!



Act II: Outside Miz N's classroom later that day.  Miz N is greeting her students.  Annie is standing there.  Miz N is ignoring her, partially for fear of incurring Annie's wrath and having another scene.  Miz N has had enough of scenes.

Annie:  Miz N, can I come back to your class?

Miz N:  No.

Annie:  <shocked, all innocent outrage>  Why not?

Miz N:  Because you are finished in here.  <walks into classroom>

Teaching is not for Sisiyphussies

I am so. unbelievably. tired.  If my daughter ever asks me (and I doubt she will) what the essence of being a teacher means, I will tell her it is exhaustion.  I am exhausted in every conceivable definition of the word:  physically, mentally, spiritually, and psychologically.  When people ask me what I do on my breaks, the answer is always the same.  I sleep. 

My students, for some inexplicable reason, like to ask me if I went "to da club this weekend." My answer usually goes something like this, "No, I did not.  My weekends usually involve my husband hoping that I can make it through a movie we rented without falling asleep--which is typically around 9:30."  I feel like  Sisyphus.  Every morning I have to get up in the dark, work all day doing the impossible, come home and attempt to pay attention to my children and husband's needs, and then fall into bed exhausted, only to do it all again the next day.

Last week was ridiculous--I had to make a CPS call (the details of which I obviously can't go in to, but obviously, that is never a happy thing), "Annie," the muse for my play "How You Gonna Fail Me?" threatened me with bodily harm, and then there were all kinds of fun personal dramas plaguing me.  I happily took Friday off, went to a Barry Manilow concert with my gay bff, had a few drinks and then settled in for a luxurious night's sleep with no requirement to get up at any particular time.

Then I woke up at 5:57.

WTF?

Why is it that Monday through Friday, 6:00 a.m. comes and I am pulled out of a dead sleep by my alarm, but if I don't have to get up, I wake up?  I didn't just wake up; I was wide awake.  Luckily, I was able to fall back asleep...and then...my cell phone rang.

"Miz Nilknarf!  Where are you?"  It was Devon.  I have no idea how he got my phone number.  I don't really keep it a secret--I have no problem with my students calling me.  I just don't recall giving it to him specifically. 

"I am out today, remember?"  I responded with all kinds of dramatic yawning.

"Well, when are you going to be back?"  he demanded.

This brings to mind a phenomenon, that I like to call "You are a teacher, therefore you must not have a life or even exist for that matter, outside of school grounds."  My first department head said that students think we are robots that are powered down for the night after school is over each day.  Don't believe me?  How else can one explain the complete and utter shock students have when they see me out in public?  Say I run into a student at the mall.  They will run to me with eyes wide and say, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"  with the same amount of astonished horror that I would ask that question of say, running into my mother in a crack house.  It's just not fathomable.  Bottom line, they are allowed to skip class, stay home from school, sleep in class, etc.  However, I am expected to be there with a smile on my face no matter what!  Consider this note I found on the top of a test students took when I was absent earlier this year. 

It's kind of sweet actually (if you are inclined to ignore the poor grammar).   It is nice to know I am loved (except  by Annie, who continues to assert that I am failing her for no reason).  Anyway, Teacher Appreciation Week is coming up May 6-10.  If you have kids in school, if you are in school, or if you have a way to contact a teacher that made a difference in your life, take the time to write them a note.  Gifts are awesome, but not necessary.  Tell them you value what they do.  I promise you it will mean so much to that person. 

A Short Play Entitled, "How You Gonna Fail Me?"

Characters:

Annie:  A senior, in my 10th grade English class for the 2nd year.
Ms. T:  Guidance Counselor (or as we just call them now, "Professional Counselor")
Dr. C:  Vice Principal
Miz N:  English teacher supreme


Act I scene i:  Scene opens with teacher sitting at her desk creating rigorous and relevant lesson plans that support the 10th grade SOLs (Standards of Learning). 

Annie:  Miz N, I need to talk to you about making up my work.

Miz N:  Annie, you have not earned higher than a 50 any quarter so far.  You have barely been in class all year.  Repeated opportunities to make up missed work have been ignored.  I have tried to work with you.  It is time for you to accept that you will not be passing this class.

Annie:  But your class is the only one that I'm not passing and because of you I'm not going to graduate!

Miz N:  That is really too bad that you did not do the work to ensure on time graduation.  To pass you would not be fair to everyone else who has come to class and done their work.

Annie:  But I'm not like everyone else!  I gots kidney stones and depression!

Miz N:  I have tried to work with you and you have made no effort. 

<student walks out of classroom and slams the door>

Scene ii:  Counselor's office

Miz N:  As I have told you, Annie will not be able to pass my class due to her ongoing absences and unwillingness to meet my generous deadlines to make up her work.  She claims my class is the only problem.  Is this true?

Ms. T:  No, she is failing almost all of her classes, plus she has not passed her 11th grade SOL.  She is well aware of her graduation status.  I will talk to her again.

Scene iii:  Administrator's Office

Miz N:  I would like to talk to you about Annie.  I have tried to work with her, but it looks like she is going to fail English 10 a second time.

Dr. T:  Oh, I am well aware.  She has missed 65 days of school this year.  She has seat time* to make up and came to ask me for a waiver.  I told her that since she has not made up a single hour of seat time, and continues to miss school, I'm not really inclined to be sympathetic. 

Act II:  Miz N's class, later that day.  Bell Rings.

Miz N:  Ok, projects are due, so let's get those out.

Annie <who doesn't have her project>:  I ain't stayin' here....<walks out, slams door>

Miz N: <calling security on phone>  Hello, Annie Lazy just walked out of my class.

Students:  What's her problem?

Miz N:  She's mad because she hasn't been here all year and her choices are catching up with her. 

<a few minutes later, Ms. T returns Annie to class>

Miz N:  She does not get to return to my class today after walking out and slamming the door.  She needs to go to In School Detention.  <Annie is now disrupting the class, talking to other students about how mean Miz N is for failing her for no reason.>  Annie, can you please stop disrupting the students who have chosen to stay in class and do their work today?

Annie:  How you gonna fail me?  Why you tell them I'm failing?  That ain't none of their business?

Miz N:  Annie, it is no big secret, you haven't been here all year and they know it. You need to leave with Ms. T and go to ISD.

Annie:  I heard you, you ain't gotta tell me 50 Damn Times!

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand scene.

*Seat Time is a completely ridiculous option where a student can still possibly graduate even if they have missed more than the allowed absences (assuming they are passing their classes).  Students literally stay after school or come on Saturdays to "sit" and write essays, thus making up their absences.  The playwrite thinks that is bullshit.

"Just you..."

The opportunity to build relationships is really what can make teaching rewarding.  However, with the population I teach, the opportunity to build relationships that are not just supportive, but can be a lifeline and impact a student in a tangible way is all around me.  Often these kids are not likeable, are discipline problems, and poor students. 

Devon is what we call a "hot mess."  He is frequently in trouble, his grades are marginal at best, and he has a really bad habit of telling outrageous lies for attention.  He came in about a quarter of the way into the school year and my first memorable experience with him was when he came into my mid-term exam saying,

"Man!  I gots to get da fuk outta here!"

"But," I said, more than a little taken aback, "you have to take your exam first!"

"FUCK DAT!" Devon responded, and then he walked out.

 Luckily, we bonded back when I asked him to teach me some moves for the Old Skool Dance we had last winter. The look on his face watching me attempt to imitate him was priceless.  He would shake his head and go, "Miz Nilknarf!  Why you so stiff?  You gotta stop being so white!"

We've gotten to a much better place and now he is like a puppy. An omnipresent puppy, always getting into things and keeping me from getting my work done! He lives with his grandparents and I try to sift through the tales he tells me to discover what is real and what is not.  Whatever it is, it isn't good. I still struggle to be patient with him. He isn't defiant anymore, but he needs constant redirection, puts forth minimal effort, and is very quick to take advantage. 

Anyway, we are doing a project on archetypes in literature (the hero, the villain, the mentor, the faithful companion).  I asked them to create a collage where they are the hero and tell their story, assigning archetypes to significant people in their lives.  As I'm explaining this to Devon again after class he says,

"So would I put Derek Jeter on there for my mentor?"

"No, a mentor isn't the same thing as an idol.  A mentor is someone who is a part of your life that inspires and guides you," I explain again. 

"Well, Derek Jeter does that for me."

"No," I sigh, trying again, "a mentor archetype is someone the hero knows who is involved in his life, who cares about him and gives him good advice.  Like Yoda did for Luke Skywalker."

Literally, the child started tearing up.  He says, "Well I don't have nobody like that...just you."

This is the moment where I want to burst into tears, hug him, and invite him to live with me, and right all of the various injustices that Life has handed this poor kid. 

Instead I smiled and said, "Well, then put me on there.  That would be an honor." 

Yearbook and the Moment I've Been Expecting Since my First Year

Over the last school year, I have alluded to the challenges of my first year as yearbook adviser.  I haven't really had the energy to go into it because sometimes something sucks so much that it's not worth the emotion and energy it takes to write it down.  Yearbook was like being a first year teacher again.  Here is why:  I had no idea what I was doing, I had no idea how to manage the kids, I lived under constant fear (self-imposed) of being fired, the kids had absolutely no concern at all about the yearbook or their grade in the class, and that was all just the first few weeks!  After many nights of insomnia worrying about how I was going to meet deadlines and many afternoons coming home frustrated to the point of tears, I am happy to say that a yearbook I am proud of was uploaded on time.  I also came to have a great relationship with the kids and we became a family.  I went from saying no way on this earth would I ever do yearbook again to being excited about next year.  I am in the process now of interviewing staff (which is nice, because I can pick kids I know and have a relationship with) and making plans for next year.

Typically, the staff should consist of well-behaved, bright students, who are motivated and require little supervision.  But since there are only about a dozen of those in the entire school...bwahahahaha!  No seriously, I've got some good kids coming in.  I also picked a student that I actually failed in English 10 last year.  Jordan is good-natured and personable, but he slept through most of my class last year and never turned any work in.  When I called his dad, I was told that, "Jordan has a first class case of the 'I don't give a shits' and we are out of ideas."  This year, Jordan has matured quite a bit and also comes to visit me every single day.  He volunteered to do work for the yearbook, taking pictures after school, to prove to me that he deserved a chance.  He is a great example of not only how a kid can mature over the course of high school, but how building a relationship with a teacher can facilitate that. 

Other big news--the moment I've been expecting since about 8 weeks into my first year teaching, came when our principal announced that he is leaving.  I'm not sure what exactly the story is, other than that his five year contract is up and either he decided not to renew it or the county did.  I have mixed feelings about his leaving.  On the one hand, after a rocky start, he and I have built a great relationship and I know that he likes, respects, and trusts me.  He also has been very supportive of me in some pretty intense situations (see my previous blog post for an example).  For better or worse, I understand how the school works with him as the head of it and know how to navigate it.  That said, it would be super awesome if we can get a real ball buster in there who the teachers all can get behind and who the students can respect and trust.  I am hoping that one of our current vice principals gets the position. 

Finally, I am back to enjoying teaching again.  After months of the tedium of teaching 5 paragraph persuasive essays to prep for the SOL, I am so excited to get back to the kind of creative lesson planning that teaching literature can inspire.  With us into the last quarter of the year, which always flies by, I know that summer will be here soon enough.

We Are (Dysfunctional, Crazy) Family

Who here has a family member that annoys them?  That sometimes hurts their feelings?   Makes you feel unappreciated?  Who here knows that for all the dysfunction, when push comes to shove, your family is there for you?

What I learned this week, is that not only am I valued by my coworkers, but that I am cared for, and we are a family.  I won't go into details, but I will say that true to form, my yearly SOL-induced funk was in full force by last week.  A couple of things happened when I was already feeling low, and next thing you know, I was filling out the paperwork for a transfer.

This weekend, I had a family emergency.  My coworkers, my department chair, my administrators, and my principal came out in full force.  They didn't just step up, they went above and beyond.  I literally have been moved to tears by the amount of compassion and love I have been shown in the last 48 hours.

I have only been teaching three years, but I have been in the workforce for 25.  I have had jobs I loved and jobs I hated.  I have made great friends at work in the past.  I have had great bosses--in fact, one I named my son after.  Never, across the board, have I worked with such a big-hearted, brilliant, beautiful group of people.  For each one of you (coworkers past and present) reading this who has held my hand, commiserated with me, made me smile, listened to stories about my dog, watched my class so I could go to the bathroom, forced me to come to Zumba, had a drink with me, pretended we have a thing going on because the students think it's funny, let me steal your lesson plans, given me chocolate, given me Tylenol, answered my texts, sent me inappropriate emails that make me snort while my kids are taking a test; I adore you.  It is an honor to call you not just coworkers or friends, but family.

I withdrew my transfer paperwork this afternoon.   

Goodbye Breaks my Heart

“But the wild things cried, “Oh please don’t go - we’ll eat you up - we love you so!”
And Max said, “No!”
The wild things roared their terrible roars and gnashed their terrible teeth and rolled their terrible eyes and showed their terrible claws but Max stepped into his private boat and waved goodbye.” 


I care about all of my students. Some I enjoy teaching because they are smart, some because they are funny, some because they are horrible and I consider it a challenge to draw them out.  Some I care about because they need someone to care about them.  I have a few students who, for any combination of the above stated reasons, steal my heart and when I have to say goodbye to them, it hurts.

Unfortunately, we have a very transient population.  I have students leaving and new ones coming in all the time.  No matter what, I have to say good-bye to them when they graduate. A few weeks into the school year, a student I will call Brenden joined my class.  He was rambunctious, to be sure.  He wasn't disrespectful at all, just kind of challenging to get focused to complete his work.  One time, he started making random mooing noises in class.  They were shockingly realistic.  It was incredibly amusing. That said, it was really disruptive.  Finally, one day I said,

"Hey Brenden, you know, I grew up going to my grandmother's farm every summer.  She had cows and so I am really good at cow noises, too. So on Monday, you are going to stay after school for detention and you and I are going to moo together until you get it out of your system."

We did just that.  For about 5 minutes.  Then we talked.  Brenden is from Puerto Rico.  He has moved 15 times in the last 5 years.  He talked about how hard it is to move, make new friends, and then experience the loss of saying good-bye over and over. His mother had returned to Puerto Rico to care for her ailing parents and so he was staying with a friend. He said, "Please don't think I am a bad kid.  Sometimes I just make bad choices."  My heart melted.  Then I drove him home.

From that point on, Brenden became really enjoyable to teach.  He tried to work hard for me and I let him be his crazy self just enough to let him have fun.   We break for lunch a quarter of the way through class and often he stayed behind to have lunch with me.  We talked about Saturday Night Live and he would show me other silly videos on Youtube that made us both laugh. I started referring to him as "Moo Moo," and he loved it.

Last month, Brenden was incredibly withdrawn in class.    I asked him if he wanted to talk.  When everyone else filed out for lunch, he stayed at his desk.  When he looked up, big tears were running down his face.  His mother had decided that they needed to move back to Puerto Rico permanently.  I immediately thought of asking my husband if we could keep him with us or doing whatever necessary not to only prevent him from having to go through moving again, but to avoid my own pain of saying goodbye. 

Brenden's last day was on Thursday.  He must have come by between every class to give me a hug.  At one point someone said, "Man, you are moving? Why didn't you tell me?"  I knew why. Telling people is painful.  Saying goodbye is painful--much easier to just slip away.

At the end of the day, he came to hug me one more time.  I wanted to cry, but I didn't.  I knew that would make it so much worse for him.  So I smiled, and I got his email address and I told him to keep in touch and that maybe one day we will come visit him in Puerto Rico.  I can't imagine what my 5th period will be like without him.  I can't imagine what my 5th period would have been like, if I hadn't kept him after school that day for our mooing session.  It just shows that every kid has a story and sometimes, we as teachers get to be a part of that story in a really meaningful way.  Even if it is only for a very short time.

The Winter of our Despair

I have started to write this post so many times since the unspeakable horror in Newton, CT.  What can I say that no one else has said already?  My perspective is not unique; I have no words of wisdom, no words that will make sense of something so tragic.  As with any other time something goes on that is painful in the world or in my backyard, I just get up the next morning and do the best I can. 

There are no easy answers.  The NRA suggested armed guards at every school.  Not so shocking to me because we already have two armed police officers at our school.  Would I carry a gun?  Absolutely not.  Would I work at a school where staff and faculty were permitted to be armed?  No way.  Which brings me to the biggest question....

Do I feel safe?

Yes.  Kind of.  If I look at it logically, I feel safe.  Although it is happening entirely too frequently, the fact is that teachers and students go to school without incident the majority of the time.  We have gaps in our security, true, but I have a much, much higher chance of getting in an accident on the way to school.  Everyone is on high alert, new safety considerations are being instituted.  It has never been more safe to go to school than right now. 

But, do I feel safe?

No, not really.

I've had nightmares.  My mind has gone to dark places.  I have cried.  Even though I made every effort to not watch coverage, I still know entirely too much about the shootings and am haunted by the victims' sweet, little faces.  The fact is, anyone could walk in our building and do great damage before our officers could get there.  We found a bullet on the floor of the cafeteria this week.  "No one is in any danger, it could have been dropped by anybody.  We had 400 people in the building last night for a game..."  Right.  

The first week, I locked my door every minute we were in the classroom.  This week, I have not.  I'm going to move on and teach because that is really all I can do.  I have SOLs in just 8 weeks.  Then I can take a breath and then, I will be just steps away spring.