Multitasking Much?

I was walking through the halls of the school today. I passed several of my students and stopped into the ISS room for a few minutes to help one of them figure out what work he was missing so that he could try to get it done before the end of quarter tomorrow. I passed a couple kids loitering (and by loitering, I mean pawing all over each other like teenagers in heat – which, of course, they were) and shooed them off to class. I continued on, trying to find a room where I could hold a meeting for the Young Writers’ Program. I ended up at the end of our wing and stepped into a colleague’s classroom. She was in there working at her desk while a handful of students worked on something at tables. She asked me if she could help me, and I asked if I could use her other classroom – a computer lab. She said that that would be fine, because she was using the small room that day. I thanked her, said something to one of my students who was in the room.

Then a sound near my head made me jump, and I woke up.

Monday night I was out at a marching band competition until well after 11 PM, and didn’t get to slep until after midnight. Hardly a big deal in my heyday, but now that’s a Responsible Adult who wakes up at 5 in the morning and deals with teenagers all day, I can’t hack it. I got through Tuesday with a minimum of zombie noises, had an appointment right after school, and then was out and didn’t get home until after 10. I probably didn’t fall asleep until after 11 – again, shouldn’t be a big deal, but in conjunction with Monday night…

So yeah. Today, I was hurting. We were reading a story out loud, and during first period I almost fell asleep. I mean, it’s bad enough when one of the students falls asleep, but what are you supposed to say when the teacher nods off? Gah.

Fortunately, after first period I had an 87-minute prep period followed by lunch, and I decided to make the best of it. I stripped the throw pillows off the loveseat in the back of the room, grabbed a fleece blanket (stashed in the room for just such an occasion), locked my door, and set the alarm on my cell phone for five minutes before the end of class. I turned off the lights, curled up, and shut my eyes.

It took a little while for my brain to relax enough for me to fall asleep. And then… back to work, apparently! I accomplished an awful lot during my prep period today – too bad none of it actually happened.

And let me tell you, I was SO disoriented when I woke up. I’ve taken 20-30 minute naps on that couch before (hey, sometimes the best use of a prep period is a power nap so that you are prepped to remain upright for the rest of the day!) but apparently 80 minutes was just enough time to drop me into some pretty solid REM. That, or I was astral projecting all over the building…

(Oh, and for the record? My colleague doesn’t have two classrooms. I just very conveniently invented a classroom for her, right where the bathrooms are IRL, so that I’d have a meeting space. Nicely done, Mrs. Bees.)

Teacher Education, Teacher Practice

After a year of being in the trenches, and after a lot of reading the blogs and books of other teachers, I’ve got a question.

How often do good teachers go against what they’ve been taught in their college teacher education classes?

Mr. Bees is a constitutional law nut, and he’s tried to teach me the difference between “conservative/liberal” in political terms versus “conservative/liberal” in constitutional/Supreme Court terms. I’m going to attempt to use the latter definitions of the words to refer to teacher-ed classes.

It seems to me that my graduate coursework in teacher education was very liberal, very progressive. We’re taught to be very student-centered, to avoid tests (especially multiple-choice tests), to focus on multiple intelligences, to arrange desks in staggered horseshoes and never in straight rows. We’re taught simultaneously to join our teacher union – for CYA purposes – and that unions are undesirable as one of the primary reasons that teachers lack professional respect. We’re taught that reading a book to your class is equivalent to having them read it themselves, that students should have as many opportunities as they wish to redo assignments or tests, and – especially – that teachers who differ from this methodology are not good teachers.

“Taught” is, at times, too mild a word – in retrospect, I recognize that we were often being indoctrinated.

I bought into it whole-heartedly. It’s appealing stuff, and the passionate rhetoric wrought up in the buzzwords sounds as good to administrators as it does to the young, idealistic teacher.

Now, however, I begin to wonder…

Have I contracted the dreaded “teacher digging in heels to remain in the good ole ways” disease? Or is additional experience and perspective showing me that conservative educational methodology isn’t necessarily bad?

What really works? What’s really the best? Is it really as loosey-goosey as “different things work for different teachers”?

I don’t have any deep thoughts or profound conclusions. Just hoping to start a conversation. Let me know what you think.

Religious Symbols in the Classroom

While taking my first graduate courses in education, we studied some educational law and briefly discussed religious garments and jewelry.

A teacher is in a special position. Standing up there in front of children, teachers are role models and examples. For some kids, they’re the only role model. For that reason, teachers are generally forbidden from wearing political paraphernalia – it’s not right for a teacher to “tell” a kid who to support. Likewise, a student shouldn’t be made to feel uncomfortable or discriminated against because his/her political beliefs differ from the teacher’s.

What about a cross necklace, though? Does wearing a crucifix or cross inappropriately influence a student to become Christian? Does it make non-Christian students worry that they will be treated differently because of conflicting spiritual views?

My knee-jerk response would be “no, of course not.” Of course, when I decipher that reaction, I realize that my reasoning is based on majority rule. It shouldn’t be a big deal for someone to know that their teacher is Christian, I was figuring, because most people in our society are.

Let’s presume it’s okay for a Christian teacher to wear a cross necklace, or for a Jewish teacher to wear a Star of David. There are many LDS teachers in my community who wear CTR jewelry, a readily-identifiable symbol of their religion. Is that appropriate? Would it be okay for a Wiccan teacher to wear a pentagram necklace?

For me, my answer hasn’t changed. To my mind, school is a place where young people are exposed to a lot of different ideas from a lot of different people. That’s why school is so important – we’re not going to live within bubbles in the “real world,” and school is a fairly low-consequence arena in which to experience and experiment. I never felt pressured or inspired to change who I was because of who my teachers were, and I hope that is true of my students today. On a related note, I think that teachers have the same rights as anyone else – we should be able to express ourselves, so long as that isn’t disruptive to the environment or learning process, and so long as our expression doesn’t damage anyone else’s right to the same.

Which brings me to Oregon.

Eighteen members of the Oregon Legislature are sponsoring Senate Bill 786, called (interestingly) the Oregon Workplace Religious Freedom Act. Section 4 of the bill reads as follows:

No teacher in any public school shall wear any religious dress while engaged in the performance of duties as a teacher. A school district, education service district or public charter school does not commit an unlawful employment practice under ORS chapter 659A by reason of prohibiting a teacher from wearing religious dress while engaged in the performance of duties as a teacher.

Okay, so I can see someone doing something that would necessitate this sort of thing. Obviously, even if I’m an ordained minister, I shouldn’t go teach at a public high school in clergy robes. And thinking back to my pedagogy classes, I can just see someone showing up to teach in Jedi garb or in full druidic regalia. These would be, I’d say, pretty inappropriate dress for the classroom.

How do you define dress, though? Is jewelry “dress”?

And here’s the bigger problem: what happens if your religious requires specific dress? Here in Bees-ville, there are plenty of teachers who are religiously unable to wear sleeveless garments. That’s not going to create much buzz; obviously, everyone wears sleeved tops.

No; I’m talking about female Muslim teachers, who wear a headscarf as a mark of their religion.

I don’t know how many Muslim Americans wear the headscarf, but those who do are effectively being told that they are not permitted to be teachers in Oregon.

It’s a complex issue, but I think it can be boiled down to just one question: does the headscarf keep the teacher from teaching or the students from learning?

And hey… what does Oregon say about students wearing religious dress? I’m sure the ACLU would have something to say about a student being prohibited from wearing the headscarf – don’t teachers have rights, too?

It will be interesting to see how this plays out.

h/t J. Samia Mair

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Teacher Burnout and Dropout

I read an interesting article about teacher burnout/dropout rates the other day and thought I’d share. It’s not earth-shattering stuff, by any means, but it illustrates a problem in the current education system.

One of the statistics mentioned in the article is a familiar refrain in the “how to be a teacher” classes I took: almost half of all teachers will leave the profession within five years. (I remember also being told that of those who quit, something like 3/5 do it after their first year. That seems indicative to me of a problem in teacher training and support/mentoring for teachers, not necessarily teaching itself.)

A contributing factor to this attrition rate, particularly in the current economic state, is the fact that many first-year teachers don’t have renewing contracts. When funding shortages force the districts to not offer new contracts to those teachers, the teachers end up back on the job hunt. We hear a lot about people seeking alternative certification to become teachers when unemployment rises, but this is the unpleasant flip side of that coin – qualified teachers who lose their positions and have to start over in another industry.

This article cites NCLB – or more specifically, its “stricter-than-ever accountability laws” and paperwork – as a significant cause of teacher burnout. Instead of being fueled by their passion for teaching children, educators are motivated by statistics and personal competition. It’s not enough to love children and your subject matter; now your kids have to out-perform the next teacher’s kids if you want job security. That’s an extreme case, but it weighs on teachers’ minds.

Of course, money is always an issue. We always hear/say that teachers don’t go into it for the money, but it is also true that financial compensation can go a long way toward neutralizing the negative effects of burnout.

I particularly liked what one of the article’s sources had to say on the subject:

“The bottom line is that, as teachers, we have the opportunity to change lives, and literally, in some cases, save lives,” he said. “A teacher’s attitude toward the kids can, and has, saved lives. The voice of those kids who behave badly can’t become the dominant voice in the teacher’s mind.”

The solution to teacher burnout won’t come through a “business as usual” approach, McMahon said. And he stresses the importance of keeping great teachers, no matter what it takes.

“We need innovative, new incentives for teachers to remain in education,” he said. “Government can’t do this alone – the private sector also needs to play a role.”

And finally, a quick primer to help us all recognize the symptoms of teacher burnout in time to do something to help:

Three Ghosts?

I don’t, for whatever reason, dream about teaching. That’s bothered me a little bit. If you care about something as much as I care about teaching, shouldn’t it invade your dreams? My colleagues talk about their teaching dreams…

Last night was no exception, on the surface. I did, however, dream about some of my students.

I was at a football game, and one of the players was a boy named [C]. He was one of my very favorite students during my student teaching: a strong, sensitive, brilliant boy who could write poetry as well as he could find the end zone. You know, the sort of kid who only actually exists in cheesy movies – except he’s for real. In real life he’s still in high school, but in my dream he’d grown several inches and many pounds and was a star of the local college team.

I was sitting outside the stadium with a small group of people, feeling lonely and slightly irritated about something (I think it had to do with people over-imbibing, given a comment someone in my dream made, but that’s irrelevant) when up comes [C], fresh from a victory. He sat down and talked to me for a while, genuinely happy to see me. It was clear that we were friends, not just former student/teacher. It was a lovely feeling. We walked away together, talking.

From there, I walked into a very full room – a band room, I think, that was being used as a presentation room for some sort of meeting. The first person to meet me at the door was [J], one of  my current students, only instead of being thirteen she was closer to 30. Also, instead of being one of my least favorite faces to see in the morning, she was someone near and dear to my heart. We greeted each other, so happy to see one another. Again, it was clear that our relationship was one between friends, not a teacher and a student.

I took my seat on the far side of the room, melancholy again because [C] had had to leave and [J] was working and couldn’t come hang out with me. And then, there I saw him: [T], my best friend from high school and much of college, the kid so much a part of me that I sometimes can’t distinguish whether he was a friend or a relative or what. Despite the fact that [T] and I parted ways, somewhat non-amicably, years ago, he still haunts my dreams. I miss him horribly.

In my dream he came over and sat by me, and it was the most wonderful thing ever. We hadn’t ever fought. We hadn’t ever grown apart. It was like our friendship had just continued on, and we were now at the natural point that a friendship would have reached after (counting…) thirteen years. If you’ve ever wrapped yourself up in a blanket fresh out of the dryer, you know how good that dream-segment felt.

Then I woke up, smiling – literally, which is unusual for me – and it took me a good three or four minutes before I realized that [T] was no longer a part of my life, and that [J] was still an unusually obnoxious seventh grader, and that [C] probably didn’t even know who I was anymore.

Why be visited by these three specters? [T], I get. I can even understand [C]. But [J]?? Weird.

Loved

Being at the local marching band competition, amidst dozens of band teachers and their hundreds upon hundreds of students and alumni, pointed out to me something that I already knew: no one really loves their English teacher.

If you don’t want to know…

We’re working on thesis statements, so I’m constantly tossing a prompt at the students and asking them to come up with opinions.  Because they’re 12 and have appropriately limited worldviews, those prompts usually focus on extremely basic subjects.

Recently I asked them to write thesis statements for an essay written about the best class at school. They couldn’t choose lunch, but I let them choose exploratory or advisory classes if they wanted.

I just got around to correcting them, and couldn’t stop myself from registering their responses. I didn’t count them or anything – that would have taken effort and a notepad – but I logged them mentally. And I have to admit, the results were kind of surprising to me.

It doesn’t shock me that English wasn’t a big favorite. After all, it’s not exactly a fun class they’ve got me teaching four periods a day. We do a lot of spelling, some grammar, and a lot of nuts-and-bolts writing stuff. I keep trying to find time to work more fun activities in, but there is so much curriculum to cover that I haven’t really managed it yet.

Literature, though… I would have thought that it would have had a decent following. We just finished reading a book the kids loved, and they (claim to have) loved the way we read it. Lots of drama, lots of interaction, a fun culminating project. I even bought a red jacket for the kid who drew Messenger from my re-purposed Crown Royale sack.

Only one kid named literature class as his favorite.

No one named English class. Well – that’s untrue. “Paolo,” who likes to be contrary, wrote his thesis statement about the worst class at LMS. He mentioned English.

I was also surprised that science didn’t have more fans; fewer than half a dozen picked it as their favorite.

Predictably, PE was a big favorite. What really rocked me back on my heels, though, was the class that got elected as Prom Queen. Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever imagined that twelve-year-olds would pick, as their very favorite most bestest class in the whole wide world… world civilizations.

I mean, seriously! Doesn’t everyone hate pre-collegiate social studies? Isn’t that, like, the known bane of social studies teachers’ existence? The fact that, for whatever reason, kids just don’t get engaged in history and whatnot?

Plainly, PB – the world civ teacher on our team – is doing something awfully right.

A-n-d… I probably am, too. They say that, as a first-year teacher, you should take too much popularity as a red flag. If the kids love you too much, you’re probably being too nice, too easy. Still, it kinda stings. I want kids to like my classes. And while I’m sure many of them like them okay, I’m going home without the tiara tonight.

Where Else to Prop my Halo?

I shouldn’t be, but I’m reading a book. It’s amazing. And, in little ways characteristic of many amazing books, surreptitiously melancholy. It’s about a teacher, so I’m debating whether to review it here or on my bookerly blog. Leaning toward the other since I neglect it dreadfully.

The runners-up in the Student Council election took it like troopers, and they were all great sports. I don’t know if I did an unusually good job at something (which is what people keep telling me, but I don’t see what they could mean) or if I just lucked out with a great group of kids, but they were awesome. A few tears, all of which were quite restrained. My favorite was the sixth grade boy who shrugged on his way out of the library and told me, “It’s like my dad said: if I win, he’s gonna take me out for a milkshake. If I lose, he’s gonna take me out for a big milkshake.”

Thursday I’m supposed to go to a “new teacher institute” to learn how to talk to parents at the Big Scary Parent-Teacher Conference Night. *eyeroll* Oh dear, there’s my horns showing again – but seriously. Of the many things that give me doubt and pre-eruptive ulcers, parent conferences are not one of them. After CHS, I can’t imagine the parent that could faze me. (Hey, Cosmos! You hear that? Did that sound suspiciously like an ill-advised challenge?)

Speaking of horns showing! I went to the local corn maize (oh yes, the area punsters went there) last Saturday night. Enjoying the feeling of a night off without responsibility or need for maturity, I clipped in a pair of barrettes that – at certain angles – bear a passing resemblance to a pair of devil horns.

 
This would be them.

It was late – past kiddie bedtimes – and not the peak weekend. So of course, half the LMS seventh grade was at the Maize, chirping “Mrs. Baker! I like your horns!” across the field. I guess now they all know that I really am not nearly as nice as they might think.

Keeping Myself Busy

No, I haven’t been blogging. I mean, it isn’t that catastrophic that I haven’t blogged in two weeks, not in the grand scheme of time and whatnot, but when a million things happen every day it’s practically criminal not to blog daily.

That, and I had really intended this to be a diary in a way. I wanted to have a record of this first year, and I am NOT doing a good job of that. Part of it is that I can’t reveal too many details, and I think I may remedy that by using password protection on occasional posts.

The biggest thing that has compelled me to take a few minutes to write, though, is that it occurs to me that the last indication anyone ever had of my life as a teacher was that I’m not having as much fun as I had hoped. That was nearly a month ago, and times change. Not dramatically or anything, but I’m not still stuck on September 29.

I’ve been figuring things out. I knew that the educating part of being a seventh grade teacher wasn’t going to stimulate me intellectually. Classroom management, definitely. I don’t think I can ever learn enough about managing my classroom. But teaching? We’re talking about children who don’t understand metaphor even when you spell it out to them. There is so much I’d love to share about these books and words and whatnot, and they are just simply not in a position to care.

If I was in a bad place last month, it was because I was bored. I was busy, no doubt – the number of work hours a teacher doesn’t get paid for – but not engaged. I was loving my school, loving my kids, but not loving what I was doing. I felt like I was teaching four classes of spelling and two classes of story time – cute and easy, but not really what I’d had in mind when I went into teaching.

Then I figured out a few things that turned the spelling class into something more like a real writing class, and story time got a little more interesting, and things outside of the curriculum ramped up. A lot. More about that in tomorrow’s post.