My week was interesting. I normally teach with a 'lead teacher,' so we trade off between planning/ grading, teaching the whole class, and teaching small groups. I very rarely teach the full class all day except when she's absent.
This week she went on a trip with family and was gone for 3 days. Originally, we were booked to have the school's 'permanent sub' all 3 days, and she is so excellent about wanting to do everything she can to help all day. She is bored without enough to do. Melanie left a list for her- kids to pull out for fluency every day, a new bulletin board to do, and sorting through some books from the library. I saved some grading from over the weekend for her.
And on Monday morning, our school was hit with a crazy number of absences. The permanent sub was needed in a kindergarten classroom where both 'regular' teachers were going to be gone, and instead I ended up with an older man who basically sat back and watched me teach all day. At one point when I was lecturing them, he spoke up for a couple of sentences. Other than that, he sat in a chair and didn't even go with me to pick up the kids or take them on restroom breaks. When I did have a rare bit of prep time in our busy no-special day, he wanted to chat. He never once asked if there was anything he could do to help.
Tuesday, the (amazing, couldn't-live-without-her) secretary called down a few minutes before the school day started, saying "Please don't kill me!" Turns out, I was not only without the expected sub- but without one at all.
Not a big deal, except for our two small groups. Oh, and the time when normally I teach a small group in another grade but can't leave the second graders alone. But the other small group teachers were fantastic about adjusting or covering for me, so it worked.
I didn't have a sub on the next day, either, which by that point I kind of expected. And honestly, it's kind of pointless to have a sub. One guy who came to sub at our school this week seriously brought a book and, when handed the plans, was surprised and said, "Oh! Normally when I come here there's another teacher who does most of the teaching." (Annnd now we know why he takes jobs at our school.)
Anyway- in my three-day stint as a teacher solely leading the classroom, the days were varied. Monday was such a bad day that my description to my fiance was "shitfest." The class was just awful overall, and I ended up writing 3 parent notifications as well as handing out 7 "Think Sheets" (in a class of 17).
Tuesday was better, though, and by Wednesday I kind of got in a groove. I felt like the teaching was solid- we got things done, we tried a new seating chart, we followed some teachable moments, the behavior was much better, we did some higher-level thinking, we talked about some life skills like working in teams, and I managed to engineer a good fractions idea that took me all of 5 minutes to plan for. Even better- I didn't have to get to school crazy early or run around frantically to make it happen.
It was a temporary thing, of course. Thursday I went back to sitting at my own desk, using a student computer, checking ideas with someone else, sharing the load. It was back to normal. I get my normal lunch, I don't have to scramble to get coverage for small groups, and I left for home before 5:00... but I also feel like I was just starting to get in the swing of things and feel like maybe I could really run a classroom on my own.
I'll be leading my own classroom for 6 weeks of the summer. I'm only a few weeks away at this point, and I'm still nervous- but I think I'm a little more excited now.
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Friday, May 07, 2010
Sunday, May 02, 2010
Apple, Cherry, or Student
One of the teacher blogs I read posted recently about a student who was leaving, and it hit home.
My school has a lot of transiency. Only 75% of the kids who were here at the beginning of the year are still here.
It's rough. We're considered a failing school, and we're giving the kids so much this year. The corporation has spent tons of Title I money and stimulus funding to get these kids extra help. We have a student-teacher ratio of something like 8:1 in a high-poverty school. We have an RTI specialist, a reading coach, a math coach, and a specialist to come in and help us with a restructuring process, including a curriculum and assessment calendar. We have a certified teacher or a full-time aide as an assistant in each classroom. We have added an hour of instructional time each day and an extra summer session for struggling students.
And not only have we lost 25% of the kids already, but I have 4 or 5 kids telling me they're moving over the summer. Last year almost half of our student population changed from August 2008 to August 2009.
I know that could change, but it's still somewhat disheartening. I hate seeing these kids leave. I miss them, of course- miss seeing how they're doing, miss being able to teach them, miss talking to them each day- but there's more.
I am sad that they won't be at our school anymore, because some of the kids leaving are the students who can really benefit from the extra attention and extra learning opportunities we have here. One of my students who started out reading almost two grade levels behind has made a ton of growth this year, but will be moving to a new school next year where I doubt she'll be able to get the same amount of individual and small-group time that she needs to catch up. Another student acts out, but as you get to know him you realize that there's something deeper. When asked what he did over Spring Break, he looked away and wouldn't respond. He rarely came to school clean and well-taken-care-of. I hope that a teacher with a bigger class and less resources is able to see the need behind his misbehavior.
It's also frustrating to me because I see our efforts going out the door. We have poured so much into these kids. I'm happy to help the kids, and I would do it even if I knew they'd be moving soon, but we are a school with a reputation of "failing." Our test scores are low. AYP has not been met. And there are kids that we have worked, and worked, and worked with, and they have grown incredibly.
And they're gone. While we took the test this year, many of those students weren't here anymore. Their test scores weren't here to show how much we have taught them. I'm happy they have learned, regardless, but it would be nice to see our school get credit in the public eye for the amazing strides we have made.
I'll post more about this later, but it's so disheartening to see the teachers at my school labeled as "bad" when the turnover of students is so consistent and so high.
If a sports team had to lose half of their team each year and put in players who may or may not be ready for pro level and hadn't been chosen by the team, they would never be expected to win.
But I'm not in sports. And as frustrating as transiency can be, I'm glad for the education we have given the kids in our class this year. Especially the 5 kids who have moved (out of 16 in our class). I hope they are doing okay.
My school has a lot of transiency. Only 75% of the kids who were here at the beginning of the year are still here.
It's rough. We're considered a failing school, and we're giving the kids so much this year. The corporation has spent tons of Title I money and stimulus funding to get these kids extra help. We have a student-teacher ratio of something like 8:1 in a high-poverty school. We have an RTI specialist, a reading coach, a math coach, and a specialist to come in and help us with a restructuring process, including a curriculum and assessment calendar. We have a certified teacher or a full-time aide as an assistant in each classroom. We have added an hour of instructional time each day and an extra summer session for struggling students.
And not only have we lost 25% of the kids already, but I have 4 or 5 kids telling me they're moving over the summer. Last year almost half of our student population changed from August 2008 to August 2009.
I know that could change, but it's still somewhat disheartening. I hate seeing these kids leave. I miss them, of course- miss seeing how they're doing, miss being able to teach them, miss talking to them each day- but there's more.
I am sad that they won't be at our school anymore, because some of the kids leaving are the students who can really benefit from the extra attention and extra learning opportunities we have here. One of my students who started out reading almost two grade levels behind has made a ton of growth this year, but will be moving to a new school next year where I doubt she'll be able to get the same amount of individual and small-group time that she needs to catch up. Another student acts out, but as you get to know him you realize that there's something deeper. When asked what he did over Spring Break, he looked away and wouldn't respond. He rarely came to school clean and well-taken-care-of. I hope that a teacher with a bigger class and less resources is able to see the need behind his misbehavior.
It's also frustrating to me because I see our efforts going out the door. We have poured so much into these kids. I'm happy to help the kids, and I would do it even if I knew they'd be moving soon, but we are a school with a reputation of "failing." Our test scores are low. AYP has not been met. And there are kids that we have worked, and worked, and worked with, and they have grown incredibly.
And they're gone. While we took the test this year, many of those students weren't here anymore. Their test scores weren't here to show how much we have taught them. I'm happy they have learned, regardless, but it would be nice to see our school get credit in the public eye for the amazing strides we have made.
I'll post more about this later, but it's so disheartening to see the teachers at my school labeled as "bad" when the turnover of students is so consistent and so high.
If a sports team had to lose half of their team each year and put in players who may or may not be ready for pro level and hadn't been chosen by the team, they would never be expected to win.
But I'm not in sports. And as frustrating as transiency can be, I'm glad for the education we have given the kids in our class this year. Especially the 5 kids who have moved (out of 16 in our class). I hope they are doing okay.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
almost there
This summer was full of dread. I was worried I wouldn't get a job. And then, beneath that, there was an even bigger worry. I would get a job, but I would be terrible.
Student teaching wasn't super smooth. I discovered quickly that while I'm a natural at the teaching aspect, the organizational side of teaching- which is every bit as important- is seriously lacking. I quickly found myself to have piles of papers, I nearly forgot to put a chunk of grades in the official gradebook, and I was swimming in too much work.
One of my biggest realizations was that every lesson doesn't have to be the brilliant, show-stopping, groundbreaking lesson. I would have a lesson mostly planned out, go to finish the final touches a few days before, and think of a new and much better idea. I'd completely revamp the lesson, which of course required immense preparation, and stay up late the night before finishing it.
I couldn't keep this up. At the end of student teaching, I was doing a lot more basic, simple lessons. The extravagant lessons just weren't viable to do often, and I had to reign in my ideas to be more reasonable. Had I continued the way I was teaching, I would have easily been burnt out, but it was really hard for me to stop. It felt like giving up on my best ideas to not teach them.
I had to simplify things and figure out a better system for me. I improved by the end of student teaching, but I knew I still had a lot to learn. The thought of my own classroom was exciting, but after student teaching wasn't perfect, it was also incredibly terrifying.
What if I'm not good enough? What if my students don't do well? What if I can't control the classroom? What will the parents think? Will I keep my job?
Finally, after increasing worry all summer, I heard something back from one of the tens of schools to which I applied. I had landed an interview. Time to show the principal that I felt confident and competent- joy.
But I did okay. I explained to the principal that I'd learned a lot during student teaching about the art of teaching, but more importantly about myself as a teacher. I had learned many things I wanted to do or not do in my own classroom to make it work for me. I also came away from student teaching knowing that I have a lot more still to learn, and so I emphasized to the principal that while my youth and inexperience might be a weakness, my passion for improving was a definite strength.
As it turns out, I'm now in an interventionist position. It's amazingly well-fitted for me at this point. I am essentially an assistant teacher in a specific classroom, which feels very similar to student teaching. I have opportunities to lead the entire class, and many opportunities to work with struggling individuals and small groups. I'm still teaching, but I don't have all of the responsibilities of my own classroom just yet. I have a tremendous opportunity to keep learning from a more experienced teacher, and at the end of the year I'll be teaching my own class for six weeks.
I can't think of a better job to help me transition to a full-time classroom leader. Obviously, there are times I wish for my own room. I feel like an almost-teacher at times, but for now I'm hoping to take everything I can from the experience. So many qualified people I know simply haven't found a teaching job this year (including my own mom), and I'm thankful to have a job. Especially one where I can teach!
Student teaching wasn't super smooth. I discovered quickly that while I'm a natural at the teaching aspect, the organizational side of teaching- which is every bit as important- is seriously lacking. I quickly found myself to have piles of papers, I nearly forgot to put a chunk of grades in the official gradebook, and I was swimming in too much work.
One of my biggest realizations was that every lesson doesn't have to be the brilliant, show-stopping, groundbreaking lesson. I would have a lesson mostly planned out, go to finish the final touches a few days before, and think of a new and much better idea. I'd completely revamp the lesson, which of course required immense preparation, and stay up late the night before finishing it.
I couldn't keep this up. At the end of student teaching, I was doing a lot more basic, simple lessons. The extravagant lessons just weren't viable to do often, and I had to reign in my ideas to be more reasonable. Had I continued the way I was teaching, I would have easily been burnt out, but it was really hard for me to stop. It felt like giving up on my best ideas to not teach them.
I had to simplify things and figure out a better system for me. I improved by the end of student teaching, but I knew I still had a lot to learn. The thought of my own classroom was exciting, but after student teaching wasn't perfect, it was also incredibly terrifying.
What if I'm not good enough? What if my students don't do well? What if I can't control the classroom? What will the parents think? Will I keep my job?
Finally, after increasing worry all summer, I heard something back from one of the tens of schools to which I applied. I had landed an interview. Time to show the principal that I felt confident and competent- joy.
But I did okay. I explained to the principal that I'd learned a lot during student teaching about the art of teaching, but more importantly about myself as a teacher. I had learned many things I wanted to do or not do in my own classroom to make it work for me. I also came away from student teaching knowing that I have a lot more still to learn, and so I emphasized to the principal that while my youth and inexperience might be a weakness, my passion for improving was a definite strength.
As it turns out, I'm now in an interventionist position. It's amazingly well-fitted for me at this point. I am essentially an assistant teacher in a specific classroom, which feels very similar to student teaching. I have opportunities to lead the entire class, and many opportunities to work with struggling individuals and small groups. I'm still teaching, but I don't have all of the responsibilities of my own classroom just yet. I have a tremendous opportunity to keep learning from a more experienced teacher, and at the end of the year I'll be teaching my own class for six weeks.
I can't think of a better job to help me transition to a full-time classroom leader. Obviously, there are times I wish for my own room. I feel like an almost-teacher at times, but for now I'm hoping to take everything I can from the experience. So many qualified people I know simply haven't found a teaching job this year (including my own mom), and I'm thankful to have a job. Especially one where I can teach!
Monday, June 15, 2009
pomp & circumstance
Graduation is a funny thing.
It's an arbitrary day, where we're handed a piece of paper that somehow represents 4+ years of work at some level. We wear a gown and funny hats, and everyone cheers that we made it. We managed to get through the requirements that someone said we should.
And then it's celebrated wildly.
For me, graduation has always felt funny. I'm sure that part of the issue in high school was that, as a band member, I had attended three other graduations, and this felt just like another one, really. It was long, it was boring, and I walked across a stage and shook someone's hand and suddenly I was supposed to feel different.
Well, I didn't. And I didn't again for my college graduation. I think graduating is an accomplishment, but I guess it's hard for me in both cases to feel like I was challenged. In high school and in college, a few classes were difficult, but not most. College can be difficult, but most of my education classes just plain weren't. It was expected I would do fine in both high school and college, and that I would graduate. And I did.
High school graduation was a bit more exciting. I was never a kid who wanted desperately to escape my hometown, but college was still an enticing prospect in my mind. College graduation was somewhat different in that I wasn't a big enough part of any group on campus to get a send-off of any kind (unlike high school, where there were a few special graduate events), and I didn't have any plans lined up for the future. High school graduation was a step towards something new and different, and college is, too- but it's a lot scarier.
I'm in no hurry to grow up and be an adult. I've graduated, I'm engaged, but there's a part of me that would love to spend another year or two just like I am now, without having to start a real job or pay for everything myself or deal with all the real world things that come with adulthood.
I think that could all be exciting, don't get me wrong. If I had a job, and I could start setting up a classroom and planning great curriculum and decorating a new apartment- it'd be scary, but there would be an element of fun.
Without the job, I can't start setting up or planning, and I don't want to commit to a new place to live. Without having a job, I have to experience all of the aspects of the real world except for the fun ones.
And no one seems to understand why I can't get too into celebrating my graduation. Completing my major doesn't feel like a particularly surprising or commendable accomplishment for me personally, and now that I've graduated, I have little to look forward to besides a so-far-fruitless job search in the current economic times. Congratulations to me?
It's an arbitrary day, where we're handed a piece of paper that somehow represents 4+ years of work at some level. We wear a gown and funny hats, and everyone cheers that we made it. We managed to get through the requirements that someone said we should.
And then it's celebrated wildly.
For me, graduation has always felt funny. I'm sure that part of the issue in high school was that, as a band member, I had attended three other graduations, and this felt just like another one, really. It was long, it was boring, and I walked across a stage and shook someone's hand and suddenly I was supposed to feel different.
Well, I didn't. And I didn't again for my college graduation. I think graduating is an accomplishment, but I guess it's hard for me in both cases to feel like I was challenged. In high school and in college, a few classes were difficult, but not most. College can be difficult, but most of my education classes just plain weren't. It was expected I would do fine in both high school and college, and that I would graduate. And I did.
High school graduation was a bit more exciting. I was never a kid who wanted desperately to escape my hometown, but college was still an enticing prospect in my mind. College graduation was somewhat different in that I wasn't a big enough part of any group on campus to get a send-off of any kind (unlike high school, where there were a few special graduate events), and I didn't have any plans lined up for the future. High school graduation was a step towards something new and different, and college is, too- but it's a lot scarier.
I'm in no hurry to grow up and be an adult. I've graduated, I'm engaged, but there's a part of me that would love to spend another year or two just like I am now, without having to start a real job or pay for everything myself or deal with all the real world things that come with adulthood.
I think that could all be exciting, don't get me wrong. If I had a job, and I could start setting up a classroom and planning great curriculum and decorating a new apartment- it'd be scary, but there would be an element of fun.
Without the job, I can't start setting up or planning, and I don't want to commit to a new place to live. Without having a job, I have to experience all of the aspects of the real world except for the fun ones.
And no one seems to understand why I can't get too into celebrating my graduation. Completing my major doesn't feel like a particularly surprising or commendable accomplishment for me personally, and now that I've graduated, I have little to look forward to besides a so-far-fruitless job search in the current economic times. Congratulations to me?
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