A seasoned teacher once said that your second year of teaching becomes easier than the first because then you will have a reputation. My third year is coming up. Can you imagine the reputation that already spread between all the students I have had and have now?
I had to make some presentations to the ninth grade honors classes. These are students I know will be coming to me next year. They have to do a summer reading and I gave them the assignment today. Already they are in a state of panic: "What! No extra credit!? Fifty percent of the grade is writing essays!? We have to read two novels now?"
Rumors are going around that I am a strict Nazi English teacher, a witch with a capital B. My current sophomores love me and they can't believe such horrofic names are being said about me! I told them not to quell any of those rumors, and that if any freshmen wants to know what I'm really like, I told my sophomores to just fuel the fire. Burn, baby, burn!
Monday, March 13, 2006
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Stress?
I hope I'm not speaking too soon, but this semester doesn't seem as stressful as last semester. I know I'm jinxing myself by saything that...
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Monday, February 06, 2006
Rewards
Yours truly got a "Teacher of the Month" award for hard work, most notably for staying late hours and working with the school's most challenging group of students.
I can finally scratch off "get an award for teaching" on my "Things To Do Before I Die" list.
I can finally scratch off "get an award for teaching" on my "Things To Do Before I Die" list.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
CATE
I went to my first professional conference this weekend in Anaheim. It's called CATE, which stands for California Association for Teachers of English. The district paid for everything--hotel and registration. I really enjoyed the conference. There were so many workshops on writing, reading, and activities; practical activities that I can use in the classroom. I even got a lot of free books and kits for grammar and lesson plans. Besides teachers from my school site, I saw two other teachers from my past--my junior high yearbook teacher and a teacher from another school where I previously worked.
The highlight of the whole event was getting Orson Scott Card to sign a couple of books. He was a guest speaker during a luncheon and he inspired me to start teaching poetry. Before this conference, I didn't care much for poetry, and when I teach it, I usually teach rhyme schemes and patterns and poetic forms. It's a boring way to teach poetry, but I'm not a fan, and therefore, I know I don't teach it well. After Mr. Card's speech though, I was suddenly inspired that I had to get his book of poetry (and his other popular book Ender's Game) and ask him to sign it. Like a crazy fan, I gushed about how I was fueled by his speech and that I will try to teach the art--and heart--of poetry this year. He said he was glad that he left such an impression and wished me luck.
This conference was just as fun as Comic-Con (if that doesn't reveal how much of a nerd I am), and yes, Orson Scott Card is going to be there, too. I should try to get another autograph and maybe give him a follow-up of how I taught poetry. I know he will remember me; we had a funny conversation about my name and how it was spelled when he was signing my books.
The highlight of the whole event was getting Orson Scott Card to sign a couple of books. He was a guest speaker during a luncheon and he inspired me to start teaching poetry. Before this conference, I didn't care much for poetry, and when I teach it, I usually teach rhyme schemes and patterns and poetic forms. It's a boring way to teach poetry, but I'm not a fan, and therefore, I know I don't teach it well. After Mr. Card's speech though, I was suddenly inspired that I had to get his book of poetry (and his other popular book Ender's Game) and ask him to sign it. Like a crazy fan, I gushed about how I was fueled by his speech and that I will try to teach the art--and heart--of poetry this year. He said he was glad that he left such an impression and wished me luck.
This conference was just as fun as Comic-Con (if that doesn't reveal how much of a nerd I am), and yes, Orson Scott Card is going to be there, too. I should try to get another autograph and maybe give him a follow-up of how I taught poetry. I know he will remember me; we had a funny conversation about my name and how it was spelled when he was signing my books.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Hypocrite Pinkies
I find it extremely annoying that my sophomores declare their communist ideals whenever they refuse to do anything "democratic" in the classroom, such as voting. Then they call me a fascist whenever I try to maintain control and take away their privileges. Whenever they bring up the word "communist" and glorify its ideals and philosophies, I am so tempted to tell them to shut up and start glorifying capitalism and America. Yet I don't. I don't even want to begin to argue with them because it will be like debating with religious fanatics who find every fallacy of arguments to justify their hypocrisy. There is no use in trying to debate logically with those kinds of people.
I can't stand fucking hypocrisy of any kind; they are really beginning to irk the hell out of me with their faux genius.
I can't stand fucking hypocrisy of any kind; they are really beginning to irk the hell out of me with their faux genius.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
A Burden Lifted
I have one more set of essays to grade. Next week is finals. A large bulk of essays and grades have been entered. I'm feeling a sense of relief this evening that I want to scream for joy!
Hallelujah!
Hallelujah!
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Implosion
I'm burning out. I got swamped with essays this past weekend, and I didn't get to finish grading them, and the grading deadline is approaching. I stayed up past midnight trying to complete them so I could return them. I decided to take a day off work in order to finish.
I really feel like I'm having a mental breakdown. Here I am... still grading... on my day off. I want to scream...
I really feel like I'm having a mental breakdown. Here I am... still grading... on my day off. I want to scream...
Monday, January 09, 2006
Monday Happy Hour
I shouldn't drink alcohol on Mondays, but a few teachers and I couldn't resist $3.00 margaritas. I don't drink liquid fire very often, so I'm feeling a strange, unbuzzlike effect. I'm very lucid at this moment as I write this, but my throat feels funny, like it's swollen.
I wonder if I could be allergic to margaritas... or alcohol, in general?
I wonder if I could be allergic to margaritas... or alcohol, in general?
Monday, December 19, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Moronic
To give you an idea of what students are like in the community where I teach, I shall tell you some stories that have been passed around in department gatherings:
I. "No Child Left Behind"
The No Child Left Behind (NCLB) laws are really targeting teachers' and schools' accountabilities for the quality of their education. In order to ensure quality education, NCLB weeds out teachers who are not qualified to teach in their subject matter. A math teacher can't teach English literature because they are not competent to teach that subject, and this will result in children being left behind because they are not getting the proper education.
So, a counselor was sharing a story about how this law got misinterpreted by a parent. A student who just transferred into the school had to register with the counselor. The counselor reviewed the transcripts and found that the student is deficient on credits and will not graduate on time. The parent piped, "But what about No Child Left Behind?" because he feared that his child will be left behind by not graduating on time. In other words, this parent thought that the NCLB law was a "free credits if you're deficient" program that will ensure his student will graduate on time. This parent thought that by transferring to another school, our school would give his student all the lost credits that he failed to complete at his other school. Yeah fucking right!
II. "No Grades for Tardies"
A fellow English teacher who teaches freshmen shared this story. One of his students who thought English was too hard decided not to attend English class anymore. This teacher hasn't seen this student for the past two months. Said student was going to tardy sweeps instead where students have to stay quiet and write out standards. He attended tardy sweep for the past two months rather than going to class.
The grading period just ended, and said student went to the tardy sweep supervisor and asked him, "What's my grade in this class?" The supervisor told him that there is no grade in this class because it was a tardy sweep; it's a holding tank for late students. The supervisor advised the student to ask his regular teacher to find out his grade. The student goes back to the English teacher and asked him what his grade was. Given that he did not attend class, he is failing. The student complained that English was too much work, so he went to tardy sweep in lieu of regular English class. He thought copying and writing standards in a holding tank was an easier way to get an A than reading a book and writing essays.
III. "But I Need My Credits!"
This is my own story. I was helping a student after school doing an essay, and we worked on it until about 5pm--well into dark. As she was leaving, I told her to walk home safely (she only lived across the street) and escorted her out the door. All of a sudden, I saw the assistant principal marching down the corridor ready to pounce on anyone walking down the hall. She shouted at my student, "Are you in credit recovery? Why aren't you in class?"
"She's not in credit recovery. She was with me," I explained. My student walked away, and then the principal--the most intimidating (yet much loved and admired) woman on campus appeared, too. "What's going on?" I asked.
"Credit recovery classes have a fifteen minute break from five to five-fifteen. Break is over!" the principal muttered under her breath. "What do these students think? I am tired of giving them chances and they're... " she trailed off with a shake of her head.
Suddenly, in the main hall, we spotted six to seven students walking down the corridor with Jack-in-the-Box food in their hands. They're talking loudly with nonchalance as they head back to class without a care or worry that they were about twenty minutes late. The principal and the assistant principal pounced.
"Excuse me! Get over here!" the principal called out to them.
Five or six ran away (stupid cowards!), leaving one student behind with her hand in a Jack-in-the-Box bag grabbing fries. The principal tried to follow the other students who ran off. As she walked off, she said to the girl, "Don't bother going to class. You are late."
"Awww, come on..." the girl started to whine.
"I already told your teacher to mark you absent and anyone else who is not on time from the break. So you can go on home. Get out." The principal pointed to the exit double doors.
"But I need my credits!" The student said with a laugh, thinking she could ease her way back into class with humor.
"No, you needed your Jack-in-the-Box--now get out." The principal kept on walking to find the runaways who high-tailed it back to the classroom. I am sure she found them.
God save the principal!
I. "No Child Left Behind"
The No Child Left Behind (NCLB) laws are really targeting teachers' and schools' accountabilities for the quality of their education. In order to ensure quality education, NCLB weeds out teachers who are not qualified to teach in their subject matter. A math teacher can't teach English literature because they are not competent to teach that subject, and this will result in children being left behind because they are not getting the proper education.
So, a counselor was sharing a story about how this law got misinterpreted by a parent. A student who just transferred into the school had to register with the counselor. The counselor reviewed the transcripts and found that the student is deficient on credits and will not graduate on time. The parent piped, "But what about No Child Left Behind?" because he feared that his child will be left behind by not graduating on time. In other words, this parent thought that the NCLB law was a "free credits if you're deficient" program that will ensure his student will graduate on time. This parent thought that by transferring to another school, our school would give his student all the lost credits that he failed to complete at his other school. Yeah fucking right!
II. "No Grades for Tardies"
A fellow English teacher who teaches freshmen shared this story. One of his students who thought English was too hard decided not to attend English class anymore. This teacher hasn't seen this student for the past two months. Said student was going to tardy sweeps instead where students have to stay quiet and write out standards. He attended tardy sweep for the past two months rather than going to class.
The grading period just ended, and said student went to the tardy sweep supervisor and asked him, "What's my grade in this class?" The supervisor told him that there is no grade in this class because it was a tardy sweep; it's a holding tank for late students. The supervisor advised the student to ask his regular teacher to find out his grade. The student goes back to the English teacher and asked him what his grade was. Given that he did not attend class, he is failing. The student complained that English was too much work, so he went to tardy sweep in lieu of regular English class. He thought copying and writing standards in a holding tank was an easier way to get an A than reading a book and writing essays.
III. "But I Need My Credits!"
This is my own story. I was helping a student after school doing an essay, and we worked on it until about 5pm--well into dark. As she was leaving, I told her to walk home safely (she only lived across the street) and escorted her out the door. All of a sudden, I saw the assistant principal marching down the corridor ready to pounce on anyone walking down the hall. She shouted at my student, "Are you in credit recovery? Why aren't you in class?"
"She's not in credit recovery. She was with me," I explained. My student walked away, and then the principal--the most intimidating (yet much loved and admired) woman on campus appeared, too. "What's going on?" I asked.
"Credit recovery classes have a fifteen minute break from five to five-fifteen. Break is over!" the principal muttered under her breath. "What do these students think? I am tired of giving them chances and they're... " she trailed off with a shake of her head.
Suddenly, in the main hall, we spotted six to seven students walking down the corridor with Jack-in-the-Box food in their hands. They're talking loudly with nonchalance as they head back to class without a care or worry that they were about twenty minutes late. The principal and the assistant principal pounced.
"Excuse me! Get over here!" the principal called out to them.
Five or six ran away (stupid cowards!), leaving one student behind with her hand in a Jack-in-the-Box bag grabbing fries. The principal tried to follow the other students who ran off. As she walked off, she said to the girl, "Don't bother going to class. You are late."
"Awww, come on..." the girl started to whine.
"I already told your teacher to mark you absent and anyone else who is not on time from the break. So you can go on home. Get out." The principal pointed to the exit double doors.
"But I need my credits!" The student said with a laugh, thinking she could ease her way back into class with humor.
"No, you needed your Jack-in-the-Box--now get out." The principal kept on walking to find the runaways who high-tailed it back to the classroom. I am sure she found them.
God save the principal!
Monday, December 05, 2005
She's Awesome
My idol. I never thought that in my lifetime would I actually get anywhere near her. Like a complete fangirl, I was speechless. Why am I always rendered silent when I meet great people?
Although it looks classy with just her name, I am debating now whether I should have asked her to personalize it for me.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Communism is the Answer!
Surprisingly, I'm finding that many of my sophomore students are on the verge of communism. I find this startling, yet a little refreshing at the same time. Startling, for the obvious reason that it's anti-American. Refreshing because, as much I have thought to myself that this generation of teens who practically have everything handed to them on platters (i.e. iPods, PSP, cell phones, DVD portable players, brand name clothing), some of them actually do have this great ambition to actually find equality and justice across social classes. They actually do want to try and help others, but they're so pessimistic (i.e. "what's the point if we're going to die anyway?" or "what's the point if no one listens to teenagers anyway?") that it's detrimental at the same time.
Then again... these are my advanced students. If there's one thing I've learned, and most AP teachers have warned me, is that advanced students are one-sided in all their opinions; never really doing full research. Add arrogance to that--they think they're geniuses just because they're in an honors program--and you have a person who is ready to conquer the world with all the wrong ideas.
Then again... these are my advanced students. If there's one thing I've learned, and most AP teachers have warned me, is that advanced students are one-sided in all their opinions; never really doing full research. Add arrogance to that--they think they're geniuses just because they're in an honors program--and you have a person who is ready to conquer the world with all the wrong ideas.
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Poker Night
Coworkers decided to start a poker night: once a month. Twenty dollar buy-in. I thought that was a bit expensive, but with ten people playing, that was a pretty high pot. I lost; ended up in fifth place. Before leaving, I convinced the crowd for a ten dollar buy-in at the next game.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Discipline Is Not an Emotion
Tonight, some asshole made some comment to me about being cold and unemotional. Coming from him, makes it all the more insulting.
The first time he said it to me was in regards to my teaching. "You have a different connection to students because you don't know what they're going through," he said.
"I realize that students have personal problems that they bring into the classroom. I'm not unsympathetic to their needs. I do talk to them, and adjust assignments if they need it."
"But that's it," he said. "You're just... sheltered."
"Sheltered?" I repeated with disgust.
"You've had a perfect life. You've never experienced something emotionally traumatizing, so you don't connect with students like I do."
"I don't think I need a traumatizing event that has shaken me so emotionally to better connect with students. I can pretty much understand what they're going through when they start ranting to me or crying to me."
The gist of that conversation was that he believed that if I were in tune with my emotions more, I can have better connections with my students. I don't believe in that. I don't believe that a person needs to have an emotionally trying experience to be more understanding of one's own emotions or another person's emotions--or in our case-- to have better understanding of teenage emotions or better relationships with students.
Tonight, this conversation came up again, in regards to actual teaching. I made a constructive criticism about his teaching, which I think can be improved if he works on it. He took it as a personal affront and got defensive about it. He starts to make a comparison between us that I'm a better teacher because I can turn off my emotions. "I'm not emotionally balanced as you, so I can't balance my work. I'm not like you. You have high standards, but we all can't meet that."
I've heard his story before, and I was sympathatic at first, but if he's going to start using that as an excuse for everything that he can't do, I'm not buying it anymore.
"They're not my standards, neither am I holding you to them."
"I am more emotional than you. I can't turn off my emotions like you."
"Don't even go there," I shot back. "It's not about emotional balance; it's about discipline. I choose to stay here and work my ass off. I choose to stay here and organize and pull my shit together so I'm not running around with my head cut off tomorrow morning."
"Again, I'm not like you. You don't understand how the imbalance in my personal life affects my professional work. I don't have that balance that you have because you don't know the emotional things I go through."
We were just arguing two different things at that point.
"No, we're not even going there," I said and waved off the conversation. "It's discipline, not me turning off my emotions."
His argument about an emotional imbalance affecting his work is equivalent to a former student saying that she didn't do her homework because she's black. I really wanted to tell him that his "emotional imbalance" is a lousy excuse for not pulling his own weight because he's been using that excuse for a while already. As they say in the workplace, "Get your shit together."
The first time he said it to me was in regards to my teaching. "You have a different connection to students because you don't know what they're going through," he said.
"I realize that students have personal problems that they bring into the classroom. I'm not unsympathetic to their needs. I do talk to them, and adjust assignments if they need it."
"But that's it," he said. "You're just... sheltered."
"Sheltered?" I repeated with disgust.
"You've had a perfect life. You've never experienced something emotionally traumatizing, so you don't connect with students like I do."
"I don't think I need a traumatizing event that has shaken me so emotionally to better connect with students. I can pretty much understand what they're going through when they start ranting to me or crying to me."
The gist of that conversation was that he believed that if I were in tune with my emotions more, I can have better connections with my students. I don't believe in that. I don't believe that a person needs to have an emotionally trying experience to be more understanding of one's own emotions or another person's emotions--or in our case-- to have better understanding of teenage emotions or better relationships with students.
Tonight, this conversation came up again, in regards to actual teaching. I made a constructive criticism about his teaching, which I think can be improved if he works on it. He took it as a personal affront and got defensive about it. He starts to make a comparison between us that I'm a better teacher because I can turn off my emotions. "I'm not emotionally balanced as you, so I can't balance my work. I'm not like you. You have high standards, but we all can't meet that."
I've heard his story before, and I was sympathatic at first, but if he's going to start using that as an excuse for everything that he can't do, I'm not buying it anymore.
"They're not my standards, neither am I holding you to them."
"I am more emotional than you. I can't turn off my emotions like you."
"Don't even go there," I shot back. "It's not about emotional balance; it's about discipline. I choose to stay here and work my ass off. I choose to stay here and organize and pull my shit together so I'm not running around with my head cut off tomorrow morning."
"Again, I'm not like you. You don't understand how the imbalance in my personal life affects my professional work. I don't have that balance that you have because you don't know the emotional things I go through."
We were just arguing two different things at that point.
"No, we're not even going there," I said and waved off the conversation. "It's discipline, not me turning off my emotions."
His argument about an emotional imbalance affecting his work is equivalent to a former student saying that she didn't do her homework because she's black. I really wanted to tell him that his "emotional imbalance" is a lousy excuse for not pulling his own weight because he's been using that excuse for a while already. As they say in the workplace, "Get your shit together."
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Teachers and Students Are Just Alien to Each Other
Random thoughts...
I.
Teachers have unique personalities. We have to--in this job, it's almost needed, especially in the English and history departments. Those teachers are just plain freaks; they study people and personalities and society. Compound that with all the learning they have done, you have a genius who is sociable and witty, but still a generation away from their students, therefore, crazy by students' standards.
II.
I played Depeche Mode in class yesterday for background noise while the students worked on posters. One student immediately made a criticism: "I can't work in these conditions. Goth is so depressing and dumb and emo!"
"They're not Goth!" I shot back.
"How many Goths does it take to screw in a light bulb?" he asked. I just narrowed my eyes at him without saying anything. He continued with a fake falsetto, "I don't know. I'll just hit here in the dark and cry. Oh, boohoo!"
"They're not Goth!" I repeated. "They're 80's, and their music was called synth-pop. They're still considered rock now."
"Emo!"
"Oh, yeah... Slayer isn't death metal. It wasn't in my time and it still isn't now!"
Another class argued that Nine Inch Nails was also Goth.
III.
Today, a group of students asked if I could monitor their club because their current advisor had to leave early. They used my room to hold their meeting. Can you guess the club? Anime. I have always hesitated to be associated with the anime club, but now a good majority of students know I like anime. I think they are secretly plotting to overthrow their current advisor because they want me instead-- a knowledgable teacher who knows anime and a bit of Japanese culture. A few said that they saw me at Anime Expo this past summer. I don't want to see my students in my personal time. I'm going to avoid all of them if they make an attempt to say hello to me at next year's Anime Expo.
I.
Teachers have unique personalities. We have to--in this job, it's almost needed, especially in the English and history departments. Those teachers are just plain freaks; they study people and personalities and society. Compound that with all the learning they have done, you have a genius who is sociable and witty, but still a generation away from their students, therefore, crazy by students' standards.
II.
I played Depeche Mode in class yesterday for background noise while the students worked on posters. One student immediately made a criticism: "I can't work in these conditions. Goth is so depressing and dumb and emo!"
"They're not Goth!" I shot back.
"How many Goths does it take to screw in a light bulb?" he asked. I just narrowed my eyes at him without saying anything. He continued with a fake falsetto, "I don't know. I'll just hit here in the dark and cry. Oh, boohoo!"
"They're not Goth!" I repeated. "They're 80's, and their music was called synth-pop. They're still considered rock now."
"Emo!"
"Oh, yeah... Slayer isn't death metal. It wasn't in my time and it still isn't now!"
Another class argued that Nine Inch Nails was also Goth.
III.
Today, a group of students asked if I could monitor their club because their current advisor had to leave early. They used my room to hold their meeting. Can you guess the club? Anime. I have always hesitated to be associated with the anime club, but now a good majority of students know I like anime. I think they are secretly plotting to overthrow their current advisor because they want me instead-- a knowledgable teacher who knows anime and a bit of Japanese culture. A few said that they saw me at Anime Expo this past summer. I don't want to see my students in my personal time. I'm going to avoid all of them if they make an attempt to say hello to me at next year's Anime Expo.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
I Feel So Used...
I hate to say it. I really like my colleagues, but a certain teacher is beginning to annoy me. I shall call this teacher the Tick (gender will not be disclosed).
As a seasoned teacher, I thought that Tick would contribute more to help out new teachers as well as teachers who teach the same curriculum as Tick does. Tick has been coming to me before or after school asking how I teach certain things. I don't mind sharing tips and ideas, but I draw the line at asking for lesson plans. There's a limit to that. I'll give if a new teacher needs something to start on, I'll give if a teacher is really desperate, but I start to become selfish and irked when a teacher is just plain lazy. Tick was so lazy that it asked for worksheets that were found in the same teacher's edition that we were all given at the beginning of the school year. Tick went into my file cabinet looking for worksheets and lessons. Tick went into my teacher bookshelf and took out books that it wanted to borrow. When I'm typing up lessons or ideas, Tick will ask for a copy through email.
Lesson planning is an art. Sure, I've taken lesson plans from other teachers, but I always modify it to fit my style of teaching and edit certain things and focus on certain skills. I make it my own. Every little lesson plan I create is like a little part of who I am. I have never asked for a lesson plan, made a hundred copies of it, and then passed it out to students--out of pure desperation. I always make time to look it over, ponder how I'll teach it, and then modify it how I see fit. Even now, when I look back at the lesson plans I've created as a student-teacher, I can see how much I've grown and developed as a professional teacher.
I never want to look like a fool in front of students who will catch something that I can't explain or an error that I did not do--or Heaven forbid--can't teach a lesson that I did not make or understand. It's not professional. Because I am a professional, I take the time to look at things and plan, even if planning means having to stay five chapters ahead of the students, or having to stay until 9pm, or having to come in on Saturdays to plan accurately and perfectly.
If I put a great amount of labor into my work, I feel used when a teacher just takes my work without thinking of how they'll use it. When I hand off a lesson plan to a teacher, they think it's easy because they don't have to reinvent the wheel. But as a teacher, one should always think about reinventing the wheel to make it better. It's good for the teacher and for the students.
As a seasoned teacher, I thought that Tick would contribute more to help out new teachers as well as teachers who teach the same curriculum as Tick does. Tick has been coming to me before or after school asking how I teach certain things. I don't mind sharing tips and ideas, but I draw the line at asking for lesson plans. There's a limit to that. I'll give if a new teacher needs something to start on, I'll give if a teacher is really desperate, but I start to become selfish and irked when a teacher is just plain lazy. Tick was so lazy that it asked for worksheets that were found in the same teacher's edition that we were all given at the beginning of the school year. Tick went into my file cabinet looking for worksheets and lessons. Tick went into my teacher bookshelf and took out books that it wanted to borrow. When I'm typing up lessons or ideas, Tick will ask for a copy through email.
Lesson planning is an art. Sure, I've taken lesson plans from other teachers, but I always modify it to fit my style of teaching and edit certain things and focus on certain skills. I make it my own. Every little lesson plan I create is like a little part of who I am. I have never asked for a lesson plan, made a hundred copies of it, and then passed it out to students--out of pure desperation. I always make time to look it over, ponder how I'll teach it, and then modify it how I see fit. Even now, when I look back at the lesson plans I've created as a student-teacher, I can see how much I've grown and developed as a professional teacher.
I never want to look like a fool in front of students who will catch something that I can't explain or an error that I did not do--or Heaven forbid--can't teach a lesson that I did not make or understand. It's not professional. Because I am a professional, I take the time to look at things and plan, even if planning means having to stay five chapters ahead of the students, or having to stay until 9pm, or having to come in on Saturdays to plan accurately and perfectly.
If I put a great amount of labor into my work, I feel used when a teacher just takes my work without thinking of how they'll use it. When I hand off a lesson plan to a teacher, they think it's easy because they don't have to reinvent the wheel. But as a teacher, one should always think about reinventing the wheel to make it better. It's good for the teacher and for the students.
Feeling Great
When I began eating more healthy, I wasn't on a diet. I was just making a conscious decision to change my eating habits because my mother is always pointing out that I eat too much junk food. The salads I've been munching on are great, and I didn't really think that it would affect me that much because I still drink too much soda and munch on other junkie snacks.
The last time I weighed myself, I was at 155 lbs during the summer. I weighed myself yesterday, and I clocked in at 140 lbs. I can't believe I've lost that much! True, my jeans are more loose than before, but it's unbelievable. And even if it's incorrect, it's still an encouraging thought.
The last time I weighed myself, I was at 155 lbs during the summer. I weighed myself yesterday, and I clocked in at 140 lbs. I can't believe I've lost that much! True, my jeans are more loose than before, but it's unbelievable. And even if it's incorrect, it's still an encouraging thought.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Is The Fun Over So Soon?
My afternoon classes have only tortured three students. We haven't seen any more. I think my method for disciplining is working... much to the dismay of my students, who are eager to put freshmen in their places.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
With A Little Help From My Students...
To assist a first year teacher, I agreed to take her problem students into my class for a quick 10-min time out session. I warned my afternoon classes that we would be having "guests" every once in a while. They accepted the task I gave them with such glee and pleasure.
I began, "I'm helping out a teacher who has some problem students. She's going to send them here, and I want you to torture him."
The class reacted with an excited, "YEAH!!!!"
Caustic Tongue, my sarcastic student to date--he and I have a jokey yet respectful banter every once in a while--was especially excited. I gave the entire class rules on how I want them to torture the guest.
"I don't want you to insult him," I said. "I want you to make him feel bad. I want you to make him reflect about what he's done and be regretful about it. Stress the importance of school and passing classes because the bottom line is: this student wants to take a vacation by being suspended or detention in another classroom. I want you to make him see that that is not a wise decision."
Another student asked, "Can we mad-dog him? Can we get into his face?"
"No, you can't touch him physically, but you can give him dirty looks. In fact, let's all stare him down when he comes in. No laughing. Let's make him as uncomfortable as possible."
I could already see my students jiggling in their seats with enthusiasm. After setting the guidelines, I continued with my lesson. About fifteen minutes into it, a student poked her head in and asked if it was okay to send the problem student. I answered in the affirmative, and I heard Caustic Tongue add, "Yeah, send that loser in."
I continue with the lesson, and about thirty seconds later, a student walked into the room. He strutted in with that fake limp that all bad boys do, but as soon as he saw all twenty-eight of my students staring him down, I saw his shoulders slump.
"Have a seat," I said and pointed to the front corner desk near my teacher's desk.
The whole class continued to stare and got a good look at him since he sat at the front.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"[Bobohead]," he replied. [Pseudonym for confidentiality.]
I was hoping my students would start asking the questions, but they didn't know how, so I continued, "Why did your teacher throw you out?"
"Because I was... laughing." He kept looking at his two sheets of paper.
"You were only laughing?"
"Someone was making shadow-puppets on the [overhead] light."
"So, you were disrupting your class?" I rephrased.
At this point, some of my students just started shaking their heads in disappointment, while they continued to stare.
He made some more excuses, but I kept repeating, "You were disrupting your class?"
He shrugged it off.
"Do you have any work with you?"
"No," he replied with a little more gusto, like he didn't want to do any.
"Well, while you're in here, you're going to work. If you have paper, you can write a letter of apology to your teacher. You have ten minutes. Start working."
"What if I don't want to?" he threatened.
"Then you are defying a teacher, and I'll send a referral."
"Make him read it out loud, Ms. G," one of mine suggested, and the entire class agreed with nods and murmurs of approval.
His shoulders slumped again and he unfolded the two sheets of paper.
Caustic Tongue chirped, "I'll keep time, Ms. G."
"Thank you," I nodded.
My students finally pulled their stares away so I could continue the lesson. While I conducted class, I noticed Caustic Tongue kept looking over Bobohead's shoulder and reminding him how many minutes he had left. At the five-minute mark, Bobohead turned around and gave a dirty look to Caustic Tongue, like he wanted to start something. Fortunately, my student can hold his own. He towered over Bobohead and warned, "What! You're only in the ninth grade and already you're getting into trouble!"
I only nodded my approval, and Bobohead completely shut up.
My students gently reminded me that the ten minutes were up. So we all turned our attention to our special guest.
"All right," I said, "read your letter to my class."
He stumbled over the words, but his sentences were full of "I'm sorry for this-and that." There was a change in his story: he admitted to making the shadow puppets and confessed to being the cause of disruption. Because he stumbled over some words, my students said, "I didn't hear that. Can you read that part again?"
"Yeah, read that last part again."
With a sigh, Bobohead repeated a section of his letter. The best part was: "Please don't send me here again. The other students only embarrass me." At this, my students smiled with pride.
"Now, Bobohead, I want you to give that letter of apology to your teacher, and I don't want to see you again. If you have to come here again, I'll be the one to send a referral. Caustic Tongue, please escort him back to class and make sure that he gives that to his teacher."
They got up and left. As soon as the door shut, my students laughed. "He almost cried!"
"Did he?" I asked.
"He was sniffling!"
"And he changed his story, did you notice that?" someone else added.
"Yes, he did," I replied.
Thirty seconds later, Caustic Tongue returned and he was laughing his heart out.
"What happened?" I asked.
"He was about ready to cry. He said that he can't get into any more trouble because he's already in trouble with his parents for getting caught smoking weed."
My entire class burst into hysteria.
"He admitted that to you?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes!" he laughed.
"Should we tell administration about that?" another student asked.
"Well, his parents already know, and if he's telling people about it, then I'm sure that means the school already knows also. Good job, class!" I applauded them and they applauded each other.
"This class is so fun," added Caustic Tongue. "I hope that teacher sends another one tomorrow."
I began, "I'm helping out a teacher who has some problem students. She's going to send them here, and I want you to torture him."
The class reacted with an excited, "YEAH!!!!"
Caustic Tongue, my sarcastic student to date--he and I have a jokey yet respectful banter every once in a while--was especially excited. I gave the entire class rules on how I want them to torture the guest.
"I don't want you to insult him," I said. "I want you to make him feel bad. I want you to make him reflect about what he's done and be regretful about it. Stress the importance of school and passing classes because the bottom line is: this student wants to take a vacation by being suspended or detention in another classroom. I want you to make him see that that is not a wise decision."
Another student asked, "Can we mad-dog him? Can we get into his face?"
"No, you can't touch him physically, but you can give him dirty looks. In fact, let's all stare him down when he comes in. No laughing. Let's make him as uncomfortable as possible."
I could already see my students jiggling in their seats with enthusiasm. After setting the guidelines, I continued with my lesson. About fifteen minutes into it, a student poked her head in and asked if it was okay to send the problem student. I answered in the affirmative, and I heard Caustic Tongue add, "Yeah, send that loser in."
I continue with the lesson, and about thirty seconds later, a student walked into the room. He strutted in with that fake limp that all bad boys do, but as soon as he saw all twenty-eight of my students staring him down, I saw his shoulders slump.
"Have a seat," I said and pointed to the front corner desk near my teacher's desk.
The whole class continued to stare and got a good look at him since he sat at the front.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"[Bobohead]," he replied. [Pseudonym for confidentiality.]
I was hoping my students would start asking the questions, but they didn't know how, so I continued, "Why did your teacher throw you out?"
"Because I was... laughing." He kept looking at his two sheets of paper.
"You were only laughing?"
"Someone was making shadow-puppets on the [overhead] light."
"So, you were disrupting your class?" I rephrased.
At this point, some of my students just started shaking their heads in disappointment, while they continued to stare.
He made some more excuses, but I kept repeating, "You were disrupting your class?"
He shrugged it off.
"Do you have any work with you?"
"No," he replied with a little more gusto, like he didn't want to do any.
"Well, while you're in here, you're going to work. If you have paper, you can write a letter of apology to your teacher. You have ten minutes. Start working."
"What if I don't want to?" he threatened.
"Then you are defying a teacher, and I'll send a referral."
"Make him read it out loud, Ms. G," one of mine suggested, and the entire class agreed with nods and murmurs of approval.
His shoulders slumped again and he unfolded the two sheets of paper.
Caustic Tongue chirped, "I'll keep time, Ms. G."
"Thank you," I nodded.
My students finally pulled their stares away so I could continue the lesson. While I conducted class, I noticed Caustic Tongue kept looking over Bobohead's shoulder and reminding him how many minutes he had left. At the five-minute mark, Bobohead turned around and gave a dirty look to Caustic Tongue, like he wanted to start something. Fortunately, my student can hold his own. He towered over Bobohead and warned, "What! You're only in the ninth grade and already you're getting into trouble!"
I only nodded my approval, and Bobohead completely shut up.
My students gently reminded me that the ten minutes were up. So we all turned our attention to our special guest.
"All right," I said, "read your letter to my class."
He stumbled over the words, but his sentences were full of "I'm sorry for this-and that." There was a change in his story: he admitted to making the shadow puppets and confessed to being the cause of disruption. Because he stumbled over some words, my students said, "I didn't hear that. Can you read that part again?"
"Yeah, read that last part again."
With a sigh, Bobohead repeated a section of his letter. The best part was: "Please don't send me here again. The other students only embarrass me." At this, my students smiled with pride.
"Now, Bobohead, I want you to give that letter of apology to your teacher, and I don't want to see you again. If you have to come here again, I'll be the one to send a referral. Caustic Tongue, please escort him back to class and make sure that he gives that to his teacher."
They got up and left. As soon as the door shut, my students laughed. "He almost cried!"
"Did he?" I asked.
"He was sniffling!"
"And he changed his story, did you notice that?" someone else added.
"Yes, he did," I replied.
Thirty seconds later, Caustic Tongue returned and he was laughing his heart out.
"What happened?" I asked.
"He was about ready to cry. He said that he can't get into any more trouble because he's already in trouble with his parents for getting caught smoking weed."
My entire class burst into hysteria.
"He admitted that to you?" I asked in disbelief.
"Yes!" he laughed.
"Should we tell administration about that?" another student asked.
"Well, his parents already know, and if he's telling people about it, then I'm sure that means the school already knows also. Good job, class!" I applauded them and they applauded each other.
"This class is so fun," added Caustic Tongue. "I hope that teacher sends another one tomorrow."
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