The One Where I Ramble About Being Passionate and Settling my Work Contract

A hundred meaningless thoughts and less than a hundred seconds to get them into some sort of meaningful format so I can sort through them accordingly.


Ready.
Set.
Go.


My union settled our contract recently.  This has been a huge source of relief in the last eight-months-from-hell.  I know people in general have a lot of opinions about unions and contract negotiations.  You're welcome to your opinion.  Frankly, I struggled a bit with my opinion on this particular contract.


Actually, that's in large part what made this contract a fresh slice of hell in the workplace:  there were a lot of opinions, there wasn't a lot of communication and several "personal" issues (among board members and faculty members alike) became the roadblocks to a settlement.  Before we finally reached the point of exhaustion, the IEA sent representatives in to ask if we were willing to strike over the issues at hand.


Strike.  The word still makes me a little sick to my stomach.  Was that something I wanted?  Absolutely not.  I don't think any party benefits from a strike, but when there is no recourse because each side has drawn a proverbial line in the sand...then what?  That's the question I kept asking myself.


The community at large believed all members of the union were stalled over a raise and insurance benefits.  (In fact, one school board member's wife took to a public forum to make her opinions regarding our "posh" contract known.)  And that's fine.  You are welcome to believe what you wish to believe about teachers and negotiations in general.  In my own mind, though, I was struggling with what feels like the constant deprofessionalization of education. 


Frankly, public education is suffering under the weight of constant reform--reform that rarely has enough years in practice to see any real change or progress.  So when it comes to drawing and keeping quality educators?  I get a little passionate.


It's not about summers off.  It's not about working 7.5 hours a day and throwing in the towel.  It's not about babysitting or entertaining.  For me, this isn't a career or a place to bide my time at all.  It's a calling.


This week alone I've been reminded how important it is to hire people who are passionate about what they do because teenagers?  Are often unlovable.  In fact, about 40% of them spend 100% of their time acting like complete douche-canoes while maintaining a desperate need for someone to care for each of them consistently.


And consistency is hard--especially when these teenagers often lash out with personal insults.  This job clearly isn't for people who are holding on for summers off.  The other nine months make that abundantly clear.


So was I willing to strike for the sake of drawing and maintaining coworkers who are going to stand in the trenches with me and holler about what needs more attention, what shouldn't be ignored and push for the things that have taken a backseat to standardized tests?  You bet your ass I am.  Too many of my students come from homes best described as VOID.  Not fighting for those students feels like a betrayal.  Fighting for more money on my paycheck (while nice) when they potentially suffer at the hands of what is left for public education feels like a betrayal.


And I wish I felt as confident about my decision (which ended up not mattering since we settled) as I sound here.


Why don't I?  Because THE FEAR.  Oh gracious heavens, the fear.


But that's another post for another day.

It Just Isn't The Same

I have a confession.

I used to watch Teen Mom. 

Ok, ok.  Maybe "used to" is a little too...past tense?  Occasionally, when Dr. Drew interviews the girls, I still tune in to episodes of Teen Mom.

(Or read about them online.)

(It's like a train wreck.  I just can't seem to look away.)

Most of my viewing time is spent wondering if the show really is accomplishing all that Morgan Freeman hoped:  namely, reducing teen pregnancy rates.  I struggle to determine if it is an honest and open look at the difficulty of parenting while still needing a parent or if it gives attention-seeking teens one more reason to get knocked up.

And it's not like I just struggle with those questions while playing Couch Commando with the remote.  In my five (limited) years as an educator, I've seen way more than my fair share of teen mothers (and, to be fair, fathers).  But despite all of my exposure, I have no idea how to respond to these very real, and often frustrating scenarios.

Take today, for example:  I apparently enraged a student when I told him/her it was ridiculous his/her significant other was bringing their now month-old infant to the school for lunch.  Let me give you the rest of the details:  1.  The person bringing the infant was walking.  2.  It was snowing (a lot!) outside.  3.  I am sending 3-4 students home a day due to flu season.  4.  The person bringing the infant was actually going to sit in the cafeteria with the majority of the student body to "show off" (their words, not mine) the new baby.

I understand that teenagers don't always make the best decisions; however, this particular incident left me chewing my tongue to the point of tasting blood--and not just because toting a month-old infant around outside in the snow to present him to whatever virus is floating in the cafeteria obviously indicates horrible decision making skills. 

I had to shut my mouth because I will never see these situations outside of the spectacles of infertility.

(In my defense, I've managed to keep from sarcastically making comments like "Wow.  I wonder how many of those people are going to be around to 'ooh' and 'ahh' over your six-year-old when you all are 21.  Oh, wait.  I do know.  Almost none of them.  Because they will be in the business of starting their adult lives while you are learning to navigate the life of a first-grader.  Glamorous, isn't it?!")

It goes without saying that a fifteen year old is going to possess a certain amount of naivete when it comes to child rearing.  After all, the fact that they still need parents to help them make difficult life choices pretty well means their parenting skills are non-existent.  What I can't always explain is the almost uncontrollable surge of fury I have when these situations are aired openly and regularly in my presence.

As Ryan's due date (quickly!) approaches, I find myself waivering between panic, ecstacy and complete unbelief.  The latter occurs daily--which is odd given that my stomach shifts on it's own and I really need to add a "team lift" sticker to my wardrobe as standing up on my own has become a little difficult.  Regardless, I've said a hundred times how grateful Favorite and I have been to receive this opportunity.  And over the course of this pregnancy, we've been given the multiplied blessing of sharing our joy with friends (and family) who have found themselves miraculously expecting after years of struggle.

To put it simply:  For me--a several other people I know--this is a big deal.  Huge.  Gargantuan. 

And I refuse to share any part of that experience with someone who is using their "crisis" situation to gain attention.

Some will probably see that as a little selfish.  It's your perogative to believe that's who I am.  But I can tell you honestly that all I really want is the blessing of his birth and his life.  Other honorifics, while extremely awesome and very gratifying, are unnecessary in light of him.

I certainly don't mean these "teenage pregnancy" babies are worthless or less of a blessing because of the situation in which they are born.  I just don't know how to navigate my "this is really special, waited for and miraculous" with their (very often) "we just didn't have a condom; I wanted someone to love me; I need this baby to get some attention from other people."

So tomorrow, another day closer to my due date, I am going to attempt to find a way to encourage the student who just delivered a healthy baby while keeping the conversation from connecting my impending delivery to her recent experience.

Similar or not, we just aren't the same.

Holding Out for a Hero

While working on a project for grad school, I had a revelation:  why don't I spend any time focusing on a Hero Unit for my sophomores?  We could do some really cool stuff. 

We could compare some really cool movies to classic literature.  I would finally be able to justify introducing a new generation to Star Wars and requiring classes to watch The Lion King!

Fortunately, I think this project has given me just enough motivation to begin developing those requirements.

And I know exactly where I'll start...

The Morning After

I spend most of my time telling my students I got involved in education to entertain myself with the antics of high school students, and what better way to get paid than to make fun of the kid who accidentally butt-dialed an authority figure in less than desirable circumstances?

I realize, though, that my position in the classroom is valuable and influential, and I carry the weight of those words every time I address topics on which I feel woefully unintelligible.  Or, maybe more accurately, every time any student looks to me for the correct answer.  Any person in a position to influence or challenge the young minds of the world likely feels that same sense of pressure.

But the fact that I value my influence is part of the reason I spend time discussing political matters in my classroom.  I've had to strike a precarious balance between giving my students room to think and guiding their thought processes to consider aspects easy to overlook due to inexperience or other factors.  It's precarious because I don't want to allow my political leanings to inhibit their processes or understandings.  How will they ever become informed citizens if I forgo the steps that allow them to develop critical thinking skills?

Last week, through a simulation activity in class, 90% of my students opted to give up their first amendment rights for the sake of the government providing a safer living environment.  

(The last 10%, heartily led by "Iron Will" declared the other 90% to be crazy and then said something about taking guns and hiding in the woods to defend their rights a la Red Dawn.)

Let that sink in for a minute, though.

Ninety percent.

I know I teach at a small high school in the middle of nowhere.  I know the opinions of my students do not dictate the leanings of the masses.  But I am disturbed to think that anyone--in the smallest portion of the Midwest or the most populated part of the inner city--would buy into the illusion that safety is an adequate or even a preferable alternative to freedom.

My classes quickly realized that the loss of that first amendment translated to an even more significant loss in overall freedom.  When that happened, their collective tune changed dramatically.

In the same vein of experience, my advanced class has been working through persuasive rhetoric and even identifying its presence in presidential debates or campaign commercials.  Our class has taken the time to discuss the "why" surrounding these approaches and the overall effectiveness of the persuasive elements.

Never once have I shared my political affiliations.  Never once have I told them how I determine my voting preferences.  And I don't really see myself sharing that information in my classroom because, again, I think there is something far more valuable in giving the people tools to use and opportunities to use them.

I don't believe I've changed the face of America or impacted the political education of the masses.  But I feel like I've honored the liberties I so value as an American citizen.

So today, winners, losers, Democrats, Republicans, Libertarians or otherwise, I hope we realize where and how our voice really matters.  Arguments over a loss or a win or the state of our country due to a particular individual are likely to do little to change the minds of those who have already made a decision.

Why don't we consider the population just now developing the skills to form an opinion?  And instead of inundating them with reasons we are right, why don't we help them develop a sense of reason?  

Aside from exercising our own rights, it seems to be the most valuable use of our time and resources.

At least, it sounds preferable to arguing on social media, right?

I Can't Be Sad Because I Don't Have Feelings

It happened.

I'm turning into my mother.

(I love you, Mom.  I know you read.  Sometimes.  But hang on for the rest of it because I promise it's not too insulting.  Mostly.)

My brothers and I have recounted a few moments of our childhood in which my mom wasn't known for being the most sympathetic person.  She believed if the sick and downtrodden (namely, us) were going to be at the house, we might as well make ourselves useful.  We joke that she would call home and say things like, "I know you're puking, but do you think you could paint the front porch?  That would be really helpful.  Just take a bucket outside to puke in."  Or, my personal favorite, "I know you're not feeling that well, but the kitchen floor really needs to be mopped.  And, well, you're home, you know..."

In her defense (you're welcome, Mom), she held herself to the same standards and I recall she rarely missed work when I was a child.  Actually, I can recall her allowing herself to get so sick that I had to call Gloria one night in complete terror because Mom needed to go to the hospital, none of us were old enough to drive and my dad was working a job 3 hours away.

Honestly, she just had little tolerance for wasted time or illness and did her best to instill her "pick yourself up by your bootstraps mentality."  There was no such thing as an excuse.  (See what I mean?  No sympathy.)

Sometimes, though, I have difficulty doing that in my classroom.  In the last few years, I've been working toward instituting a policy that requires students to be responsible for their work while giving them space to screw up because they are, after all, teenagers.  Here is the policy as it appears on my syllabus:

Late Work

Occasionally, life happens and assignments go missing.  I am aware that every student faces difficult situations that might also serve as a blockade to the completion of homework.  If one of these events should take place, the student is required to see me before school begins to receive any sort of consideration for the assignment.  Otherwise, I do not accept late work.

Please note:  Blatant misuse of this policy will result in less consideration on my part.

I'm comfortable with this policy because it puts all responsibility into the hands of the student.  My department policy states we do not accept late work so in order to comply with the policy while still feeling I'm giving students the benefit of the doubt, I allow them the opportunity to talk to me in the morning before the bell rings. If the student believes the situation is important enough to warrant a morning interview, they likely need a little extra consideration.

On Wednesday, one student came to discuss the homework assignment and the reason she wasn't able to finish.  She was near tears and terrified, but even had she been fine I would've given her an extra day because she followed the policy set forth in my syllabus.  She was standing in my classroom at 7:45 am.  Nothing screams responsibility quite like that.

Unfortunately, few of the rest of my clan took that rule seriously.  Of 25 students, I received a sum total of 8 completed assignments.  Several tried to plead their cases.  Honestly, I was a little calloused toward the lot of them (just a little like my mom and personal illness) because I felt the policy clearly stated they had a responsibility to see me before school began.

So I guess this is the year I have no feelings, but I'm really so proud of myself for getting to this point.

And I know my calloused Mother will high-five me for it ;)

(Kidding, Mom.  I'm only kidding.  Sort of.)

(And, ladies, if you're feeling brave about your role as a wife or woman, you should click over and read this.)

My Comments: Character Assassination

When someone makes stupid comments or attacks my character, I can generally let it roll off my back with the understanding that person is spending far more time thinking about me than I will ever think about him or her.  Last year, I stayed relatively silent as people repeatedly searched my blog and constantly clicked on "Angry Rants" and "Another Kind of Rant" to find information that supported their ideas about my personality.  (PS.  Your IP addresses really give you away.)  And mostly, I subscribe the the belief that what others think of me is really none of my business.

Mostly.

But occasionally, I have enough and I have to comment.  Feel free to stop reading if you are uninterested in my comments regarding personal attacks. 

First of all, I fail to understand how a website like Topix is allowed to operate or why any person would be willing to comment on the inane drivel posted regularly.  It's not a site I visit--mostly because I don't need to gossip endlessly about topics that are none of my business.  Today, however, I was informed there was a comment made about my salary, and that comment was basically connected to other "I've heard it before" issues that really just ruffled my feathers.

I understand I really had no business visiting that stupid site and confirming any information I was given.  But I did.  Call me a glutton for punishment.

So a few things you probably don't know because I've never posted them on my blog:

1.  I work in my hometown at the same high school from which I graduated almost fifteen years ago.
2.  My father serves on the school board for that same high school.

That information alone is enough for people to scream nepotism, though I think some of those people fail to understand part of the definition for the word includes the phrase "regardless of merit."  It simply means family favortism, plain and simple.  But I think most of us would agree those who have merit should be subsequently rewarded. 

That said, here are a few other things I've never addressed on my blog:

I graduated in December more than five years ago, and I knew it was highly unlikely I would be hired for a half a semester in the classroom.  Since I felt a particular pull to hometown high, I met with the current principal to let him know I was available to substitute in any and all subject areas in order to get my foot in the door.  I also shared I would be very interested in any opening in the English Department.

A few weeks later, I received a call.  Would I be willing to cover a maternity leave in the math department?

I said yes, but you should know I had no idea what I was doing.  I was completely incapable of teaching the subject matter and would have been little better than a babysitter.  Unfortunately, there were no other able (or willing) candidates.  All I had going for me was "willing" and the administration jumped at the only bone available at the time.

Due to some real insufficiencies in mathematics, the principal gave me an "easier" math class (read:  lower level freshman math) to teach and moved the other teacher into Algebra II.  The teacher who was moved was a trouper.  Not only did she encourage me every.single.day, she also willingly taught a class she wasn't prepared to teach as it had never been a part of her schedule.

It was a trying couple of weeks.  I cried every day when I went home.  I was sure that if any English position became available, I was ruining any shot I had at a permanent placement.

But apparently, willingness is an appreciated quality.  Not long after my stint in math ended, a teacher who had been waiting for another placement at a university retired.  Since I was already in the building, and obviously more capable of teaching English, the administration honored my "willing" stint in the math department and hired me as a permanent substitute in the English classroom.

Over the next few months, I worked hard.  I had no lesson plans prepared and felt lucky to stay a few steps in front of the students.  I spent hours planning for those three preps and more time trying to grade the ridiculous amount of assignments I thought I was supposed to give (new teacher mistake).

When the English position was posted, I applied like everyone else.  I wrote a cover letter, submitted my resume and filled out an application.  I interviewed with two other candidates.  And when all that was over, I was positive I lost the job.

I didn't feel my interview went well, and any person involved in the process was completely stoic about the route they would ultimately choose.  So when my department chair (at the time) told me the administration was recommending me for hire to the board, I almost knocked her out because I flung my arms so far to hug her.  I was that surprised.

The recommendation was made and the board voted.  At this point, I should tell you my father abstained from the vote given our relationship.  But you should also note that even if he had voted, he was one vote out of seven.  One.  And I wouldn't say all the people sitting on that board were my dad's biggest fans, either.  Still, the vote for my hire was unanimous.

I have never received special treatment, asked for special treatment or expected special treatment because of my father's position.  If anything, I have worked harder to prove myself capable of a position I truly enjoy.  I don't always get it right, but I'm next to positive few teachers feel they do.

Despite the rumors on Topix (the stupid, stupid, inane, ridiculous rumors), I do not receive extra money on my paycheck because of my father's position.  My raises are in accordance with the collective bargaining agreement that impacts the entire faculty and all the staff.  Any "extra" pay I have received was due to taking on special assignments like forensics coach, after school detention, tutoring, etc.

Now I totally understand people are entitled to their own opinions, and there are likely several who continue to assert that I am the worst thing to happen to hometown high's faculty since porkchop sideburns.  That's fine.  For every one of those people, there are a handful who really seem to have enjoyed my classes and benefitted from the material I taught.  Frankly, I'd rather people just not like me than attempt to attack an idea that simply has no basis in fact or proof.

That said, search my blog.  Continue any character assassination you wish to continue.  Believe I am a horrible, hateful human being if that strikes your fancy.  I just needed to have my say.

And now I'm done.

I'm An Educator. Not a Gymnast.

Most people think the first week of school is relatively slow.  Boring, even.  We review rules.  Syllabi.  Classroom expectations.  Small bits of important information before we address the first unit of the semester.

It takes a while to generate class discussion.  It takes even longer to get students into the routine they manage to forget over three months of freedom.  But eventually, everyone finds his/her footing and the routine is established.

Except if my first week is any indication of the remainder of the school year?  We are in for no sense of routine whatsoever.

First of all, our air conditioning has been on the fritz.  I know there are people who live without it, but hometown high is shut up like Fort Knox so air circulation without air conditioning is next to impossible.  And actually?  I'm one of the lucky ones, because I have a window in my classroom.  The teachers with interior classrooms have no hope of any sort of air circulation.  So the equation?

Tired, grouchy students with no sense of a schedule + no air = miserable classes.

I'd like to tell you that problem last one day and then became a distant memory.  Unfortunately, I sweated through my underwear more days than I care to admit to you.  I guess it wouldn't be shocking if I worked construction, but teaching English isn't exactly a highly physical activity.

In addition to the "no-air-nightmare," our internet has been beyond unreliable.  Before you get all high and mighty and Jesus juke me with statements like, "Our Lord and Saviour didn't need the internet to draw thousands to His side," please remember that I am constantly encouraged to use the newest technology in my classroom as often as possible.  And Prezi?  IS AN ONLINE PROGRAM.

Not only that, but our attendance/discipline/gradebook program requires?  You guessed it.  THE INTERNET.

All week, I think it worked a sum total of 5 hours.  Five minutes here.  Fifteen minutes there.  I finally gave up and started taking attendance on my phone, and at one point, I had a student turn his phone into a mobile hot spot so we could just finish the lecture I had prepared for class.

And just when we thought most of our problems had been rectified, there was Friday Night Football.

Before we even hit the half, hometown high was winning 29-0 and the visiting team had completed more passes to us than to their own teammates.  I seriously started questioning their reasoning ability because they were trying to play a passing game when not one guy on their team could catch a football.

Anyway.

About two minutes before the half, the scoreboard, half the lights and everything in our concession stand (including the announcers booth) lost power.  We sat for a while as the officials tried to determine their next course of action.  Eventually, they sent both teams on break for the half and the band took the field.  About that time, we lost any and all remaining lights. 

No power.  Zip.  Nada.  Zilch.

We couldn't even see the poor band on the field.

So what did they do?  They played anyway.  And people sitting along the fence turned their headlights on so the audience could watch the band.

I'm not sure what they decided to do about the game because we left, but I'm pretty concerned that this week is just a precursor for the weeks to come.  So I'm off to plan lessons and then plan backup lessons in case something else in my class turns out to be temporary.

But the real lesson here is educators should be nothing if not flexible.  Right?

Prezi

School started and life as I know it ended.

No more sleeping until 10 am.  No more naps.  No more planning meals when I felt like it or keeping the house relatively clean.

Now, I'm learning to navigate the ridiculous and confusing aspects of Prezi in hopes of giving a few of my lectures a little more umph.  I started at 5:30, and now, at 8:22, I am finally finished with one presentation.

I seriously need a student to share the finer points of the program with me so I can figure out what the crap this program can do.  I know it's awesome, but the tutorials suck and it is not a user friendly program--particularly for people who are used to navigating dummy-proof powerpoint.

By next week, I should be back in the groove, and that groove should include blogging from time to time...though I seriously doubt it will be as frequent as it has been in the past.  I fear I'm running out of things to say.  Or creative ways to say them.  There is my real fear:  my writing aspirations are slowly circling the drain and I haven't even realized it because Prezi is sucking my last brains cells out my fingers.

I'm going to try to find some way to plug the hole so I can keep something going on here. 

And now?  Bed.

I know it's 8:30.

Don't judge me.

What If...

My fifth hour class is my "what if" class.  Any story, assignment, due date or expectation requires at least 3 totally extraordinary circumstances beyond the realm of comprehension.  Most of the time that "what if" tendency makes me laugh, and that relaxes the atmosphere enough for them to listen and talk to me.  But today, as I sit at my desk wondering how I can fix some of my issues as an educator, I wonder if they aren't on to something.

In the past, I've responded to them much in the same way Caesar dismisses the soothsayer:  "He's a dreamer; let us leave him" (1.2.24).  But now, I have an entire list of what ifs thanks to their constant prodding.  Like the to-do lists at Young House Love, I wonder if a few what ifs shouldn't stay in front of our noses to keep us pushing toward some goal--even if that goal is an ever-rotating lazy susan.

So today, with your permission, I'd like to offer a few of my what ifs.

What If...

* We asked more questions instead of thinking we always had to have the answers?  Would that change the way I relate to others or my listening skills?

*  Relationship really was the most important part of Christianity to us?  Would that change the way we approach tradition?  Others?  Church?  Life?

*  I ran my classroom like test scores didn't matter?  Would I actually be a more effective educator if I didn't constantly feel pigeon-holed into a specific set of requirements that don't actually measure potential?

*  I made a commitment to encourage others through my words, behavior and attitude?  Would that change the way people react to me?  Would it change my workplace?  Would it change me?

*  I just put pictures up in my house without worrying about ruining the drywall?  (Hey, not everything has to be philosophical, does it?  Some things can just be useful, right?)

*  I committed certain times of every day to specific activities?  (Grading, laundry, dinner, Bible study, etc.)  Would that change my schedule?  My attitude?  My life?

What are your what ifs?  Any you'd like to keep in front of your face?

To Teach Like A Champion

Dinner will be finished in a few minutes, and then I will begin my exciting evening of studying for my midterm exam.  If I were super-ambitious, I would move on to grading to the massive amount of papers I've required my students to write over the course of this semester.

Those papers leave me sighing and thinking:  there have to be others ways to get students to process information and learn writing skills without requiring an actual paper.  I already know I'm going to have to revamp for next year so I'm not so behind; however, I also feel like I've lost certain aspects of my creativity.

A recent conference did a bit to renew some of that creativity, but I still feel like there has to be a way to require certain skills of a student while avoiding a crazy grading load.

Other teachers feel this way?

I recently ordered the book Teach Like a Champion after several recommendations.  I'm hoping the suggestions will help me rework the lesson plans in classroom so I can reach goals without becoming completely overwhelmed. 

Right now, I have two sets of papers for English II (150 papers total), two sets of papers for English III (50 papers total) and two sets of papers for English I (40 papers).  Total, that's about 500 pages of reading and correcting.  And that doesn't even include the tests and worksheets.

Please don't think I'm complaining.  I love my job.  It's pretty fantastic overall.  But my ambition in teaching often takes over my better judgment regarding what I can accomplish in a day.  So here we are.

Do you have certain expectations of your students?  What about teachers?  Do you expect them to work in certain timelines?  Or are you willing to grant leeway when you know that person really is working to educate your child?

A Brief Update, Because I've Got Work To Do

Since so many teachers approach holocaust literature in the classroom, there has to be a way to address those memoirs with a certain amount of respect while still allowing the students to have the opportunity to see what is functioning behind them.

This is the working concept for my paper.  I'm really no further than I was yesterday, but I learned that at least one of the articles I found is going to be useful (YAY!) and one of the books I have (Writing and Rewriting the Holocaust) is proving to be invaluable.

So the rest of my night, now that I'm finished picking up and putting things away, will revolve around grading and reading those articles so I can hopefully start writing some time this week.

I'm excited about grading these papers, because it's a project I love giving the freshmen.  Since we read The Miracle Worker, a play about Annie Sullivan and Helen Keller, I think it's necessary for the students to experience what teachers experience.  Their job?  To teach someone something.  The papers are as diverse as the students in my classes, but I was more impressed that several of them indicated that this was not the best experience of their lives.  People don't listen.  They are hard to teach.

And sometimes, it's easier to do things yourself.

Anyone relate?

Ante Up

One of my students owes me $4.50.  He owes me this money because he is an incessant gambler and feels the need to bet on the length of his classmates' speeches.

Typically, he's wrong.  Way wrong.  I even give him a ten second leeway on either side of the time and allow him the opportunity to look at the outlines and the notecards to determine length, and he still hasn't managed to guess successfully.

Bless his heart.  Some of you are probably thinking I'm not going to take the money.

You would be wrong.  Because I'm vindictive.  And I like to win.  And I think some lessons are hard learned.  Like don't gamble with your teacher.  Or your future as a bookie is crumbling before your eyes. 

Either way, I think I'm cultivating a successful learning environment.

An Ode to Freud

In my classroom, when students ask a question that no one else can answer, and I can, I'll follow my answer with some statement like this:  "Man.  I am awesome.  You guys are so lucky to have me."  The students and I then chuckle and move on with our day.

This same incident happened yesterday, and I made the same comment:  "Man, I am so awesome.  You guys are lucky to have me." Then, in an effort to out-do myself, I added, "I'm so awesome I can barely keep clothes on."

I'm going to let that marinate for a second.

...
...
...


::headdesk::  

Gracious Jeebus.  How am I even allowed around adolescents?

I looked down at my desk and prayed that no student caught what I had just said...but some prayers go unanswered.

"That was a bit of a Freudian slip, wasn't it, Mrs. House?"

I bit my lip and muttered, "Uh huh."  (But honestly, two points to a sophomore who knows the concept of Freudian slip.  He's no slacker.)

So what had I meant to say?  That I was so awesome I could barely contain it.  I have no idea how clothes came out of my mouth.

But don't you feel blessed to know I'm an educator?

The Letter Series: To The Parents of my Students

A former student stopped by my classroom today and I had the opportunity to laugh with him over his current college experience.  When he left, and I went to sit at my desk, I smiled to myself and thought about what my role in his life is...or was.

I've never really taken the opportunity to thank the parents of my students, but I probably should. 

Dear Parents and Guardians,

Because of you, my job is a privilege.

I don't mean that tongue in cheek at all.  My job really is a privilege.

I have the opportunity to witness some of the best parts of your teenagers' lives.  I get to giggle during homecoming, dance at prom and blink a little faster at graduation.  But those are really only the highlights.

On a daily basis, I laugh with these students.  We laugh over dating mishaps, discussions about pornography (strictly educational, I promise) and weird football nicknames.  We laugh over my inability to be graceful and their inability to filter conversation.  (Wait.  I can't filter conversation either.)  We laugh because of successes, and we manage to laugh over stupid trivia contests that never quite end the way I imagined.

I've been challenged by their views.  You may not believe it, but these students are precocious bunch.  They are concerned about your unemployment and the cost of electricity.  They know that it's necessary to clip coupons and watch the grocery bill.  They get that the current state of the economy doesn't just affect someone somewhere--it affects their families and this community.  They may not be voting or passing laws, but they are certainly interested in war and the United States' involvement in those wars.  They worry about loved ones who are deployed and whether those same loved ones will make it home. 

They are great conversationalists.  We've discussed everything from grammar issues to cancer; rhetorical devices to loss.  They are masters at navigating the classroom requirements and still manage to approach my class with a serious demeanor that leaves space for humor.  And speaking of humor?  They know how to use it.  Mostly appropriately.  And more often than not, defuse tense situations with it. 

They are conscientious, and I love them for it.
They are funny, and I love them for it.
They are attentive and interesting and honest and open to learning.  You are so privileged to have the opportunity to raise them.  I'm just grateful I get to be a player in the game, because those students change who I am and the way I approach others.  I learned to accept, push, discipline, praise and instruct because of your kid.

During a conversation with another grad student, I was faced with this question: "With all of the new requirements for high school students, will you eventually think about leaving your job to avoid the stress?"

I thought for a few seconds and then gave the response that popped into my head the moment the question was out of his mouth.

No.  I can't.  I'm all in.  I expect that from them.  And they should expect it from me. 

But mostly, I feel privileged to enjoy what is likely the best part of you.  I truly hope you recognize the perspicacious group of human beings you have on your hands.  Thanks for sharing them.

There's No I in Team

Last night, a couple of coworkers and I ate dinner and then headed back to our local school board meeting.  We were anticipating a bit of a stressful night that revolved around test scores and, unfortunately, a discussion of AYP.

Our principal and one of my coworkers were armed with tables, charts, graphs--basically more information than could be processed in an hour.

My coworkers and I were armed with a love for our jobs and a real desire to do it well.

We explained.  We shared our position.  They listened.

Then, oh and then, they related to us.  They didn't just get it.  They commented.  They shared personal experiences and they shared opinions.

I wanted to stand up and scream, "YES!  Yes, it would be more beneficial if parents were more involved.  Yes, slow readers really don't perform well on this test even if they are thorough readers.  Yes, we are reevaluating our curriculum and adapting where it seems necessary, but no, we're not willing to disregard the fact that we aren't just preparing students for a test."

It was a light bulb moment.  But more than anything, it made me proud to be part of a team.

Theory...or lack of

I've spent my day grading papers, reading about deconstructinist theory and contemplating the fact that the really disturbing thing about trauma is the fact that you don't really experience it until you are absent from the event that caused it in the first place.

Thank you grad school for fixing my ability to converse like a normal human being. I'm going to spend the next three days adding "that's what she said" to the end of every sentence to keep myself from getting absorbed in material I only half understand.

I wish I still believed that what doesn't kill me only makes me stronger. Too bad I put that theory to rest last year or I would be drowning in the ocean while trying to use it as my flotation device.

Speaking of flotation devices: does anyone have a good topic for Holocaust literature that leans heavily toward the theoretical? I can only tread water for so long...

A Weekly Update From Grad School #1

Have I mentioned I'm reliving all of my high school insecurities, except this time I'm sitting in a room with people in their mid to late 20s?

I had forgotten how paranoid I could be, but there it is.  I'm paranoid.  Oh, hold on to your seat.  It gets worse.

I spend my entire day telling my students not to be embarrassed to ask questions.  I tell them that we're all just here to learn and there's no shame in clarifying information.  I tell them I won't think they're stupid if they ask me questions and it's my job to guide them through whatever process/information we're learning at the time.

BUT...

I don't want to talk to my professor.  I don't want to ask him questions because he may think I'm stupid.  It would be completely devastating to hear that I don't belong in this class.  And even though I'm here to learn, I naturally expect that I'm going to know everything before I have the opportunity to learn it.

Sick, isn't it?  Hypocrisy knows no limits.

(And now I'm going to email my professor.  You can't hear disapproval in type face.)

This Semester...

This semester I will...

*  Become more organized that I have been.
*  Focus on grading at work so I bring less home.
*  Work on understanding behavior instead of just disciplining it.
*  Just sigh when members of the community/well meaning parents point fingers instead of participating in intelligent discussion.
*  Pick my battles.
*  Talk about people less.
*  Praise others more.
*  Be an encouragement to the people I love.
*  Shut my mouth when I have nothing of benefit to say.
*  Realize my opinion isn't the only one in the room.
*  Grit my teeth and swallow my pride/feelings.
*  Accessorize better.
*  Eat better.
*  Do what I can do and then let it go.

The First Day of School: Graduate Edition

The movie, Inception, clearly explains that you can know you're in the middle of a dream when you realize you don't know how you got where you are.  Imagine my surprise to wake up in the middle of a nightmare only to discover that I not only knew how I got there, but I could detail every step that brought me to this particular moment in time.

I looked around the room trying to determine how I could avoid talking in a group of 12 people who have all committed themselves to the study of Holocaust literature for the next three months.  Then, my professor asked all of us to introduce ourselves, our areas of study and our interest in this course.

The six people before me were all doctoral students studying something that sounded suspiciously like "long drawn out elaborate explanation of literature that clearly means I haven't been out in the general public for the last five years and that includes dating" but took approximately 10 minutes apiece to explain.

Then there was me.

*Cue hillbilly dumbass voice*  "Duher.  Ima just startin' my mas-terz dee-gree here.  Me teaches high schoolers.  Teeheehee.  I don't know nothing bout this here Holocaust mumbo jumbo, but I's sure gonna try ter read these here books and do me a bit of learnin'.  Ya'll sure are givin' a lot to chaw on."

Yes.  It was that bad.

Add to it the fact that I am one of TWO (count 'em...TWO) master's degree students in this course.  Every single other person is in a doctoral program.  And I'm the only student who hasn't spent consecutive years working on a graduate degree.

Normally, a 25 page research paper wouldn't make me hyperventilate.  But it's been more than 4 years since I've written one.  Plus, I understood those topics.  I currently don't even know what to make of the requirements for this particular research paper, and since everyone else nodded their heads in recognition?  I'm officially the only podunk idiot in the room.  I'm praying to the Lord Jesus that the next class will offer some clarification.

The professor assured us that we all have something to learn from each other.  He assured us anything we can share during oral presentations would be valuable.  (He also graciously gave me an oral presentation I think I may actually do well.  Kind man.  Generous man.  Man who must realize I haven't been in school for a while.  Thank God for Elie Wiesel.)  But I currently sincerely doubt my ability to share anything with these people aside from a severely stunted intellect that may have only existed in my dreams anyway.

But since I used a tuition waiver to take this class, I shouldn't back out.

Oh, and I'm not a quitter.

A New Normal: Life Goes On

It's difficult to adjust to a new normal.  Back to school definitely means several changes, but those changes are nothing in comparison to something a coworker of mine is facing.

Her son, a young man, was recently diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder that is/has destroyed his kidneys.  He's currently going through dialysis and learning what it will be like to live with a disease that cannot be cured.  My heart breaks for them, but I find a significant amount of inspiration in her "can do" attitude. 

In other news, I'm officially getting back into lesson planning mode.  It's not pretty, ya'll.  I took a complete break over the summer.   As in, I did nothing.

Honestly, though, I think I needed to do nothing.  I needed some time without obligations.  Time to really rest.  Time to heal.  And it was good.

But now?  I realize that I'd like to incorporate a lot of new things in my classroom, and I haven't really looked at how to make that possible.  Mostly, I'm not super pleased with everything I do in my English II class.  We don't just read stories and fill out worksheets, but I feel like there are too many days of mundane tasks like that.  I'd like to get a little more interactive and make the students more responsible for their learning.  I'll let you know how that goes.  (*Note that I've been running around so panicked at work that I forgot my property taxes were due.  And to return a call to a woman at my bank.  And to get gas.  Do you see a sad, sad pattern here?  *SIGH*)

This weekend, I'll be heading up north with Favorite to visit an old friend of mine.  I haven't seen her since she got married three years ago, and I'm excited.  I'll post some pictures of our visit when I get back.

Oh, and grad school starts Tuesday.  My prof emailed earlier this week, and I'm pretty much already panicking over one of the requirements.  Here's to praying for a sense of organization!

(Oh, and feel free to pray for my friend, Morgan, to go into labor.  She's way pregnant and I think ready to meet her son.)