All I've heard since Day 1 of this whole teaching shindig is to not reinvent the wheel .... well what if the wheel is broken? Because from what I see, and the whole reason I am where I am doing what I'm doing, is because somewhere along the road in public education the wheel was deflated. If something isn't working, why shouldn't we fix it?
And I don't mean this in the "well my way is better" or "that was wasn't working" way, I mean it in the "OUR KIDS ARE ALL DIFFERENT AND HAVE DIFFERENT NEEDS AND WE SHOULD DO MORE THAN COPY-PASTE OUR LESSON PLANS" kind of way.
Today was quite the day, as always. I found out one of the students closest to me will be starting a new school tomorrow. I desperately worked my butt to keep one of my kids from being beaten when he got home without his uniform, and I broke up multiple fights between my students. And the whole time, I did my very best to keep cool, soothing tones, motivating, encouraging. We had a talk about our learning environment, my classroom being their haven from the streets, and our roles in keeping that haven safe and comforting so that we can be a real class, with fun and books and color and no worries about the outside.
Breathe.
And then I got to chaperone the dance :) Which started this whole broken wheel broken record I've got started today. I saw kids busting moves I will never be able to touch, who know all the steps, all the words, all the rhythms. Yes, they can learn. They can follow directions. They just need direction in a way they can identify. Worksheets, copying, doesn't work.
So my challenge for myself this weekend: invent my own damn wheel.
My kids deserve a made-for-you education that fits their every need and skills. They are going to learn, damnit, whether they know it or not.
Today's title is inspired by one-part heavy reality smack of my teaching life and one-part "Wicked" (my favorite Wicked song "Defying Gravity" for the non-musical readers out there). All of this stems from the gravity of the reality in which us Walbridge teachers find ourselves (and all the other teachers, students, and families in these same horrible challenges).
I found out over the summer that my school has the highest HIV, crime, and homelessness rates in the entire state of Missouri (to be fair, we dropped to third in crime recently!). None of this is new, but the numbers and names make it impossible to ignore, and digs a painfully deeper cut into my heart. And today was that day of names and numbers.
I found out today that 53 of our students are homeless. 53. 53 students are homeless. Of those 53, 7 are from my original roster (3 of which never showed up because, from the grapevine, they are most likely moving from place-to-place or have lost any temporary residence). One more stopped coming to class two weeks ago, and tomorrow I am supposed to go to the office to take her off our school enrollment, because every phone number given is either fake or disconnected.
This leaves me with at least three students in my classroom without homes to return to after school. All three I know had difficult living situations just by my conversations, observations, and experiences with them - but homeless?
You get frustrated through the day by their repeated tardiness, they 24/7 complaints about feeling bad, being tired, being moody, etc. You get frustrated that they don't do their homework, they aren't improving, they are never prepared. And you have to, because you have to hold them to the same expectations as every other student or else you are giving them a one-way invitation to the center of the achievement gap, but it's impossibly demanding.
I have students who have one uniform they wear daily. I have students who don't own pencils or paper or books to read. I have students who, despite the worst demonstrated behavior, I avoid sending to or calling home because I know it's why they are this way. I have 7-year-olds who steal, curse, hit to hurt, hurt themselves. I have 7-year-olds who can lie with stone faces and who do not flinch at drive-bys.
BUT I also have beautiful little kids who put their stickers on me with a smile and beg to stay with me after the bell rings. I have students who love Clifford and who fight over my Rugrats pop-up book. I have students who tell me every day they love me, who fight over who gets to walk with me, who hold my hand when they are scared or angry, who give me hugs just because they need me to give them a hug.
What else can I do for them? I wish there was more time in the day for them to stay with me after the bell rings, just so that some of them have somewhere to be.
So that's what I'm going to do. After- and before-school tutoring. Special outings and dinners with the teacher. Fun learning plans in the classroom. Keep them thinking about anything other than what is emotionally forcing them to grow up. My classroom is going to be a safe haven from the homelessness, the joblessness, the apathy, the hood, the danger, the bleakness. I have to keep this focus.
Screw simple behavior management - my kids deserve the best
I'm exhausted. I'm exhausted and overwhelmed and there is absolutely not enough time or energy in the day to do the drastic makeover attempts and dig-ins into each student that I want to do each and every day. It's incredible how much I want to do and how much I always have to do. And it's exhausting. I went to sleep at 8 p.m. last night (and those of you who know me as an insomniac - finally found my cure! teaching!).
And I'm still exhausted.
It was testing today, which sounds like it could be a nice break from total insanity, and yet ... in reality it calls for an even stronger hold on management, and a good amount of work too when you have to read the test to your second graders.
But I was so proud of them for working hard, and equally frustrated with their frustrations and the way they did and didn't deal with those frustrations. When they didn't know how to read the questions or answers or make connections (which most of them couldn't read the parts that I didn't read out loud), they were annoyed as anyone would be. They lost their effort and guessed at answers. They threw their papers on the ground. They cried in tantrums. They felt defeated before having the chance to learn.
At least, that's how they felt. And yes, I am only talking about a small margin of the classroom, which tells me something very amazing about my little ones that makes me smile even after quite a difficult day.
They care :) And they are trying :) And they are improving :) Because they asked me over and over again what to do, because they were frustrated, because they got upset with what they didn't know ... they CARE! And what's more is that those few tantrums and frustrated ones FIXED THEMSEVLES. Ms. Thing who acted as graffiti artist a few weeks ago was Miss Frustrated today, crumpling up her test and shoving it in her desk time and time again, sobbing, causing a scene ... EVERY time I had a second in testing to soothe her nerves, rub her back, remind her of how smart she is and that she CAN do this if she just hops back on ... she tried!
I felt so proud in the mist of her tantrums because of those moments she came back.
One of my boys is a severe behavior case - he is beaten at home and needs special attention in school for speech and resource. He gets off so easily, but I can bring him back. I can bring him back :) I CAN bring him back :)
Horrible day and wonderful day. Horrible because as a whole my class was off bothering one another. Wonderful because I see the disappointment in their eyes when they see they've messed up, I hear apologies, I hear thank you's, I hear sense of responsibility. So as not amazing as they still are at times, those small "I can do this" or "I have the responsibility to fix it" moments make it worth it.
Yeah, glass half full.
I couldn't help myself! Walbridge is starting a tutoring/enrichment program to get the kids involved and putting in extra time in their studies as well. Each morning Tuesday-Thursday we will offer tutoring in the morning as well as extra-curricular opportunities - the catch is they have to go to the tutoring mornings in order to participate in the fun stuff.
We will have musical learning, a drumline, and visual/performing arts to get the school in the spirit ... and guess who volunteered to be the cheer/dance/colorguard coach?
Yes, I did.
And I'm as excited as I am kicking myself! Even less time, even more work, even more involvement .... I'm excited! If I can get these kids spirited about this school and learning to work as a team outside of the classroom, I know we will see changes in the classroom. Here we go!
I am also going to start offering afterschool tutoring twice a week to my class so we can put in extra work. I figure this is a win-win from every angle. The students who are below-level will get the extra time and one-on-one they desperately need. The students on level will be able to stay on track and the ones above will get that extra work and attention they need. And ALL OF THEM will be more invested as they get special one-on-one time and see results.
Giving away my time like it's Halloween already and I have unlimited candy, but I know this will make my life better and life and learning for my kids better by a hundred percent.
Alright, Walbridge Wildcats. We have a pep rally and parade to look forward to!
PS: Walbridge has a special guess on it's way ... any guesses??
Here's the hint: "I'm from the Lou and I'm proud!"
Now I'm infamous for not knowing when to take a step back - I overkill every assignment, every objective, every position. I've had countless of all-nighters at the Thomas Cooper back at USC, and as some of my besties know, if a paper wasn't the thesis my heart was set on or just didn't meet my personal expectations, I have been known to scrap it the night before and start over from scratch if the right inspiration comes my way.
Back at the student newspaper, I was always the first to punch in and the last to ... scratch that ... I didn't really punch out until (nope, not even graduation), my flight was setting off for St. Louis.
Well, TFA isn't much different. My school day doesn't end when the bell rings or even when I close my eyes to go to sleep. My heart, as my boyfriend concernedly put it to me today, is bleeding all over my classroom. That's me, though, for better or for worse. I don't even just let my work become my life, I tend to ensure that it does so, and I can't decide if this is my strength or my downfall.
The English major in me wonders if it's my fatal flaw or dramatic foil. Geek moment.
If I have a rough school day, I'm a wreck when the bell rings to go home. I'm a wreck when I get home. I don't sleep well. I sometimes don't wake up well. I freak out each evening, determined to fix it for the next day, and I have mini episodes when the next day, either from fault of my own or outside my control, is even worse.
And while this may mean I'm a passionate person who puts my heart into my kids, I had to let myself listen today as I was reminded that my obsessive devotion, in a weird way, could be to blame in part for some of my struggles.
When my heart is breaking on a day-to-day basis and I forget that I'm a person first, teacher second, I'm not giving myself or my kids what they need - me. My head isn't in my planning because my heart won't let it think straight. My heart isn't full to repair itself from my setbacks because I won't give myself a break, allow myself to delve into my private life and relationships.
So I just spread myself thin trying to do too much. So, again, I struggle in scaling back, which actually means I can give more in the right ways than too much in the wrong.
While I may fight it to the core sometimes (sorry about that), I appreciate more than you'll ever know the concern you shared today. You're right, and I think this applies to every TFA-er I know. We were chosen because of this dedicative nature, this endurance, persistence and perseverance, this need to succeed. But on the other hand, we are in a new city in a new life nothing like anything we have ever known, so we need to let ourselves figure out who we are in that setting if we plan to be ANY ONE for our kids to look up to and really learn from.
Or else we will be spent, burned out, not teaching, not learning, not loving.
So, thank you.
We kept hearing at institute that it's good to reflect on our bad days, but it's absolutely crucial to celebrate our successes. We can't forget the positive change, the good days or minutes, or any amount of progress. In our circumstances, it's easy to overlook the change we are making - when you start so far back, it's hard to celebrate when you are a little closer to a level ground.
But today, that's what I'm reminding myself. After a day of constant discipline and nonstop correction, I have to remind myself of what my class looked like on Day 1. I had individual students on Day 1 that thought it was okay to push, run around, scream nonstop, cry out, start each day with "I wanna go home!" and the like - now, some of these students are chronic green carders, or at least apologize when I catch them messing around.
It's not level ground - it's the achievement gap for a reason, but we have to remember what our classrooms started out as. I have seen real progress from my students as from time to time they plead with their classmates to fix their mistakes, help each other, ask for help, and correct their mistakes. There is still more room for improvement than most people can fathom, but the grounds I have made in my classroom (when I think about it) astound me.
In other news, my classroom is in the news today! Check us out! One of our students literally died and was saved after a serious seizure in class, and now the news is covering her return - so our class had the opportunity to show off and learn for at least a few minutes!
Oh, what a Monday. Short week and then family weekend! SLPS: we have these four days. K
You know when you're talking to someone you don't know all that well and you find out you have a mutual friend (well, you both KNOW someone but really don't like them so much) and they give you the, "Oh yeah, I know so and so .... they're ... well I don't really know them that well."
They're lying and you're lying, but neither of you say anything negative because you're not sure if they like the mutual contact or not. That's kind of what it's like to teach at my school. It's not a hate on the school itself - the people, the staff, anything - but we are infamous for our scores and standings. I realized this weekend, name-dropping where I work means I'm getting one of those awkward forced flat smiles and "ooohhh, okay."
Well, Walbridge 7 and the awesome people we love on our staff, let's change it. I hope this school really does turnaround. - however long that may take and however hours and money spent on therapy or weekend drinks that may require!
Love y'all :)
That's how you get them on your side. Can't find a way around it.
BUT I'm choosing real incentives - like verbal praise, working in groups when we can use inside voices and help one another, getting to help other students and feel smart. I started the day off (my happy Friday, by the way!) with a ton of energy (faked) and a giant smile (not faked). I woke up with my goal being: check yourself, check your frustration, check how your tone and face looks to them despite how they are treating you. And it worked!
Every time they didn't listen and screwed around, I was firm and SHOWERED them with praise (yes, even when they were bad) but for how good they could be if only I could see it.
PS for all you teachers with children as insane as mine: bring a disposable camera to school. I didn't announce it, didn't prep them to be good for a camera, I just simply took it out. Early in the morning after I talked about our prize for students with green cards for two weeks (weekend at Ms. Davis' house/park!), they were all watching me and participating and I said "Freeze! I'll be RIGHT back! Don't move!", ran to my desk, grabbed my camera, and took a quick picture.
They were so confused! Then I showered them with compliments about how I wanted to be able to show off how awesome my class was working and how much they were using their brains. After all, the younger kids and the older kids who act like the little ones need an example, and our 2nd grade whos (they say) are the best in the school.
But then when they were bad, i warned that I'd be taking pictures to show parents. What would your picture look like?
Charm.
We had PLENTY of rough spots - for any regular school or regular set of students, today would probably still be a teacher's rough day. But for us, it was quite the dream. I still couldn't do tooooo much teacher, but I got some through, and my students really worked well together in groups to help each other. It was amazing. I kept catching myself smiling - and they felt it.
We ended the day with celebratory table group photo shoots (the kid who always seems to hate me most gave me a hug and put his sticker on my cheek!) and I was showered in hugs and high fives.
AND we got FIVE 100s on our spelling test!!!
I'm just afraid for the few who were absent and my suspendees to come back. I'm going to make the rest see how great class can be when we don't let behavior problems distract us so that they can see the difference. And when those others return, hopefully they'll feel a different environment, or my kids from today will show them what we can have if we just LISTEN and work TOGETHER.
Jimmy Buffet, you had it right: "If we couldn't laugh, we'd all go insane"
Now for all-day graduate coursework for TFA Saturday .... yayyyy!
So as fun as yesterday was (and yes I'm still smiling big), today was Open House day, which means I am at school from 7 a.m. to 8 p.m. working my butt off. So what's new in the land of the 206 Whos?
Well, miss suspended is gone which means most of my stuff appeared to be safe when I walked in (except my pencil sharpener was stolen). But of course my ancillary classes (ie those specials like P.E. and art and music that are one of the many banes of my classroom management existence) starts to head my way along with another principal referral to fill out. This time it's a little boy punching a girl in the face. I should be upset, but compared to yesterday, this is a breeze. He screams and tears up and walks right with me - no big fuss.
The day is its usual craziness and lack of learning too much more than behavior management (and our blends and inflected endings and spelling practice!). But here's the kicker. It's Open House night, which long story short means a lot of paperwork and preparation, decorating, cleaning, and stress. And no caffeine.
Open House is fairly uneventful. A disappointing amount of parents show up and there are ... gunshots! Second time this week we could hear gunshots from our classrooms! I'll be honest, I didn't hear them this time. I did on Tuesday. This time it was during Open House and I found out about it from our TFA first grade teacher just a second ago.
Icecream on the front lawn to celebrate open house is not such a good idea on Alcott Avenue.
And then drinks at Three Monkeys with most of the Walrbidge Seven. I love these people. I love these stories. This life is insane. And one of my favorites had her cell phone stolen from her students. What!?
OOOHH! AND I found out why my students don't listen and don't like me. Apparently, last year in the first grade they were awarded candy EVERY TIME they followed directions. EVERY TIME. I'm going to say that again. They were given candy EVERY time they got quiet, did a worksheet, read a book, turned in homework. I have several problems with this, and the main one isn't even just the whole lifetime lesson thing where these kids are being treated like dogs with treats and not the point of hard work and investment in their achievement. I am also offended as a low-paid member of SLPS - what kind of teacher can afford all that candy!! I'll never live up to it. I was set up for this. Horrible!
Oh well, I'm going to just have to make people out of performing children. They'll thank me later.
Today's title describe today perfectly! Both literally and metaphorically! Today truly was the most insane of any day I could have imagined I believe. You'll want to read on. Promise. I don't want you to miss this so I'll pull you in now: think pow, fuk you, pee, and goose chases in heels. I got you, right?
What started out as a typical day of being firm and lecturing and finally getting my students excited about reading expository nonfiction about the desert and even reading out loud with their reading fingers, unraveled into complete craziness at approximately 11:00 a.m.
I pick up the kids from gym (which seems to be the scene of impending doom every time I approach that big sliver of pavement between the main school and the gym) only to see dodgeballs flying, our vice principal (so to speak) on the roof, a swollen eye and a frowning pair of gangsta babies. "Oh boy, here we go." Turns out they had a great specials period, until a couple kids decided to decorate the roof with balls, the police dad's son thought using the new kid's head as a punching bag would be the best gym activity, and my trouble girl, well, was my trouble girl. PS found out our VP is afraid of heights. If you're bored, keep reading, we are just getting started.
On the way back upstairs as my kids are afraid of me at this point and in perfect HALL (hands behind our backs, all eyes forward, lips zipped, low pace), our ISS teacher pulls me aside, "Ms. Davis, did you let Asia* go to the bathroom this morning?". Uh oh. She tells me to look at the wall. One look at the wall, and I have my kids rotate 180 degrees and march right back to the classroom to keep re-read our story in pairs.
In blue marker all over the upstairs wall and girls bathroom: "Fuk you, fuk you, fuk you, Asia*" and then misspelled in the bathroom "Fuk you Ms. Daevs" - apparently little miss attitude got mad when I didn't let her go to the bathroom right away. Apparently, I told her, I was right to keep her in class. Looks like missing spelling really wasn't the smartest choice of her day. After a lot of drama to get the class working after the non-confession I drag the screaming and crying "I didn't do nothin!" girl out of class as I write her referral and the one for the punching boy. This goes on for aout 45 minutes before my 7-year-olds are crying to go to the bathroom. As I calm my graffiti artist in the hallway I keep my class on task and tell them when both hands are on the 12, we will go to the bathroom as a group because individual journeys aren't gonna happen anymore. I drag the artist back to the doorway since she thought running and crying was more fun. I walk back into the classroom to a "Ms. Davis, I had an accident" before I see and smell two large puddles, one on the floor and one in the chair, and send the little girl to clean up in the bathroom.
Time for that group bathroom break. And we head off to the break and lunch. But wait, blue marker fuk you girl doesn't want to walk with us, and instead things duck-duck-goose around the wall on top of the staircase would be more fun. I chase her in circles a few times (while trying to watch my students on the staircase below us) before I pull my own 7-year-old and do the reverse and trick move. I DRAG the girl on her butt until I convince her with a "Sweetie, I'm upset with your actions, but what you're doing now only makes it worse. You can make it better." We walk calmly to lunch and a perfect bathroom break and I leave my kids in the lunchroom for what I think will be a hot second to take this girl and the punching boy to the office (referrals are complete and parent phone numbers out because I am that awesome).
Almost. Just before walking in the office, the girl takes off in a full on sprint down the stairs and across the school in a scream/cry. At the dead end, she turns into the art room running in circles like she's running from a monster, screaming and crying, until I pounce and drag her back upstairs.
Lucky for me, the principal is out and there is zero administration in the office. Joy. They tell me I have to take her outside where my VP superhero is supervising recess. I do, and he takes her after begging on my part. Then she breaks out into yet another run, screaming "I didn't do it!" and crying across the parking lot and in circles around the school. We both go after her. Damn, why did I wear heels today?
Okay, I'll let her wait for you in the office, I tell him.
I drag her back to the office. The heartbreaking part is that while she's in this terrible cry and cannot breathe, she is also frantically shouting in an undeterminable language (that I've learned to master) that she's going to get a whooping when she gets home, she can't go home, she doesn't want to get hit again, she's going to get whooped ... etc. It kills me. I'm rubbing her back and calming her down and restraining her from running yet again until we get her calm enough for me to leave.
This whole time, my kids are still at lunch.
So I race, again, to the lunchroom to send my kids to recess.
Apparently, they must have thought I quit because I got about 20 smiles and hugs when I returned at the end of lunch to see my kids. But wait, why are 3 of my kids separated around the lunchroom? The ultimate episode of "While You Were Out" is my teaching life, but not a fun kind. Two of my kids were chasing and shouting, another screamed at a teacher after getting scolded for not listening and teasing a little girl. Another referral and now two recess detentions with me.
So back to the office and a nice "hello" to my girl still in there waiting. I drop off the kid and take the other two upstairs. I have them sit down and put their heads on their desks - no time or energy for a talk on what they did wrong.
Because I still have two puddles of pee that have been waiting on me.
I dig out my paper towels and get to work. I also meet with my veteran teacher about our progress reports that are due via a program that isn't working, pull my math worksheets, and search for the pee clothes that my little girl didn't put where I told her to put them. Ughck. Later, I find them in her bookbag, put them in a plastic bag, and tell her to tell her parents to wash it.
I go back to get the kids, thank goodness they weren't total monsters. I make up a project for them to do so I can take care of everything. No math today. New lessons are not an option.
Two of my "go homes" return to me, the parent picking up her girl shows up and we chat while my class turns upside down, and I continue the day until that glorious 3:05. Next it was TFA meetings until I got home.
The funny thing, I'm not in a bad mood. I kept a smile on my face, laughed about it, and found the whole thing kind of funny to be honest. People couldn't believe how I looked when school ended. It's just another day of zoo for the 206 WHOs!
Now, tell me that wasn't worth the long read.
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