This man sums up every reason why I became an English teacher.
He says the problem with teachers is
What’s a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life
was to become a teacher?
He reminds the other dinner guests that it’s true
what they say about teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.
I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the dinner guests
that it’s also true what they say about lawyers.
Because we’re eating, after all, and this is polite conversation.
I mean, you’re a teacher, Taylor.
Be honest. What do you make?
And I wish he hadn’t done that, asked me to be honest
because, you see, I have a policy
about honesty and ass-kicking:
if you ask for it, then I have to let you have it.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional Medal of Honor
and an A- feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time
with anything less than your very best.
I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question, so put your hand down.
Why won’t I let you go to the bathroom?
Because you’re bored.
And you don’t really have to go to the bathroom, do you?
You want to know what I make?
I make parents tremble in fear when I call home around dinner time
Hi. This is Mr. Mali. I hope I haven’t called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something your son said today.
he said, “Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don’t you?”
And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.
I make parents see their children for who they are
and what they can be.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids wonder,
I make them question,
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write, write, write.
And then I make them read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful
over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math
and hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand if you’ve got this [ points to brain]
Then you follow this [points to heart],
and if someone ever tries to judge you
based on what you make, you give them this [puts middle finger in the air]
Here, let me break it down for you [Brings middle finger down]
So you know what I say is true:
I make a goddamn difference! Now what about you
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
long overdue
Part of learning to become an adult means learning to face different challenges, and as I’ve stated while more often than not we have the opportunity to celebrate the mighty triumphs, life also presents us with a number of potholes along the way. You can dodge them, maneuver around them, hit them at 100 miles per hour in hopes of speeding right over them, but eventually we all end up with a flat tire at some stage. You can either ride with a flat tire and pray that your wheels don’t fly off, OR you can change the flat and continue in life with a brand new set of wheels. That being said, here I am changing my flat.
Newcastle High School has offered me a job placement for a year. I am not even half way through my practice teaching and it’s come as one of the biggest shocks and most wonderful compliments I’ve ever received. However, when I stop and really reflect on my needs, I know my need for adventure and perhaps even a bit of rebellion has been met, and my passion for teaching still remains. The comfort of knowing my passion for teaching still burns as brightly as before regardless of where I choose to do it is a relief, and I know deep down in my heart that although my love for Australia may have previously exceeded many desires, being away from home has made me appreciate home perhaps a little more. That’s not to say I don’t passionately adore this country to my very core, because I do, and these last 2 months and the next two months to come have pushed me so far out of my comfort zone and into a world of accomplishments I never dreamed of being capable of, but sometimes it’s human to just want to be comfortable with the familiar. Until then, I’ll see if I can get everyone up to base with my life and work.
A week ago during fourth period with my 11th graders, I stood at the board with my back to the class, writing out the plan for the next week or two leading up to the student’s exam period. As I turned around I noticed a little beam of light coming from the right hand corner of the classroom and then it dawned on me that a 17 year old boy was actually filming me.
“Miss looking good today” the boy filming me on his phone called out
“Yeah Miss, next time it would be sexier if you wore heels with that skirt.”
“Yeah miss, and you have a run in your stocking, it looks good though leave it.” I did have a hole in my stocking, a small one right on my knee cap. As one by one my year 11 boys began to make comments on my body and outfit(which was a below the knees black skirt, black stockings, a blue button up polo, and a black blazer...I assure you nothing provocative) I turned around, walked over to my desk, and sat down. I took the camera phone from the boy who had been taping me and said “This is unacceptable behavior. I am a professional, I work very hard for you guys, and you are treating me with more disrespect than I have ever been treated in my life. For the rest of the class period, we will sit here in silence. If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. I won’t even report you. I’m done for the day.” Nobody left, and we sat in silence.
That evening a staff member called me to see if I was okay, and I was. I was just frustrated. I felt like a joke. A bunch of 17 year old boys had not only been harassing me during class period, but it was the group of boys I’ve been working so hard for, and my feelings were not hurt, but I felt like they had completely insulted my intelligence.
The next day I walked into class and waited at my desk for the boys to come boisterously pouring into the room as they usually did, but one by one they came in and took their seats. I stood up in front of the board, shoulders back, head high, and began speaking.
“If I am going to work this hard to make sure you all pass your assessments, we need to set a few ground rules. What happened yesterday was sexual harassment, and I will NOT tolerate it. I have already passed high school English, I have already graduated from college, and I do NOT need to put up with that kind of disrespect. You are not here to comment on my body, you are not here to comment on my clothing, and you are not here to video tape me or ask for my phone number. You are here to learn, and I am here to teach you, and there will be zero tolerance for any other type of behavior. Do you all understand?”
The boys all nodded, and I began the lesson.
I want the boys to start thinking about their lives more deeply. They are more than bodies in seats, and while some of you may think I am absolutely crazy to want to hear anything they have to say after being treated that way, I am still here to do my job and I will do it to the fullest. I wrote the words “what is your biggest fear” and “what is the greatest lesson you’ve learned in life” on the board and gave the boys 30 minutes to free write. Many of them have never been given a writing prompt before, and many of them didn’t even know what free writing was, but many of them wrote their hearts on the paper. One boy wrote about losing his aunt who had only been given a short time to live, another wrote about being scared of not being a good boyfriend and husband some day and always wanting to be there for the person he loved. Another boy wrote about bees, but he wrote about bees in a way that was comical, yet made everyone listening shiver at the sting of a bee. It was a wonderful follow up to the previous shaky class.
I took their class notebooks home with me that night and read them, making comments where I thought they could elaborate and noting grammar and spelling errors. The next day we worked on revision because again, most of these boys have been asked to hand in paragraphs instead of papers, been given a pass or fail, and the boys have never done anything further with their writing, perhaps because nobody ever thought they had anything worth writing about. I didn’t expect the boys to be interested in rewriting and editing their own work, but sure enough after I went through what revising and editing meant, almost every hand shot up for help, and the more they revised their own work, the more they sought my approval that they were doing a good job. I gave them the feedback I felt they needed and deserved and a few of the boys even said they really liked revising their own creative writing and they hoped we would get to do more of it.
There have definitely been struggles, they say your student teaching year is one of your hardest years of teaching, and being here alone means I often times have to encourage and support myself. It has been a long and tumultuous week or two, reliving the day my brother died, followed by my dog being put down, some discouragements at the school, and even personal difficulties occurring in my life, have all seemed troubling. Just when support seems like all I need, I realize I may be a little more alone than I thought I was.
I know that sometimes we think that by being heroes and doing what seems to be “the right thing” it logistically should make everything easier, but in doing so what we forget is often times what is comfortable and familiar IS exactly what we need. Whether that’s two arms thrown around you from the person you care about, encouraging words from a parent, funny video clips from a friend, or a job offer that makes you realize that home really is where the heart is, even if it scares us, we fight back against what we know to be comfortable, against all reason, because we're scared settling. I know at the end of all of this my growth, development, and leaps and bounds I will have made will be all worth it, and I will be ready to return to the United States confidently with a smile on my face, a fire in my heart, and a new set of tires.
After bending over backwards, a number of my lunch times given up, and my breaks spent working on trying to get disorganized students re focused, the final assessments in my year 11 class have all been handed in to me and the results are astounding. A boy who has never handed in a single assessment and just returned from suspension came and saw me at lunch on Thursday, and we worked through his assessment together piece by piece. He also told me that my class is the only class he doesn't "wopp" (an Aussie term for skipping class) and that I'm the only one who has ever made him feel like he could do something.
I also realized one of the main offenders who had been giving me a hard time, was struggling with his writing, and couldn't figure out what his greatest lesson in life was. Finally he figured out that his greatest lesson was to be a hard worker, because it taught him things other than just making money. When I asked him what kinds of other things he said "I don't know miss, like you have a lot of patience for teaching this class. We're hard. Nobody else would do this for us." He later apologized for acting the way he had last Friday, and we moved on from there, because I still believe in him.
Sometimes when people push you away, like my students for example, it's only because they've never really had anyone go to that length and effort to show them they are cared about. All you can really do is be there for people and hope they will also be there for you. Sometimes they might fight against you like my students did, but at some point they'll realize that you might actually be the one they need to get through it all.
Newcastle High School has offered me a job placement for a year. I am not even half way through my practice teaching and it’s come as one of the biggest shocks and most wonderful compliments I’ve ever received. However, when I stop and really reflect on my needs, I know my need for adventure and perhaps even a bit of rebellion has been met, and my passion for teaching still remains. The comfort of knowing my passion for teaching still burns as brightly as before regardless of where I choose to do it is a relief, and I know deep down in my heart that although my love for Australia may have previously exceeded many desires, being away from home has made me appreciate home perhaps a little more. That’s not to say I don’t passionately adore this country to my very core, because I do, and these last 2 months and the next two months to come have pushed me so far out of my comfort zone and into a world of accomplishments I never dreamed of being capable of, but sometimes it’s human to just want to be comfortable with the familiar. Until then, I’ll see if I can get everyone up to base with my life and work.
A week ago during fourth period with my 11th graders, I stood at the board with my back to the class, writing out the plan for the next week or two leading up to the student’s exam period. As I turned around I noticed a little beam of light coming from the right hand corner of the classroom and then it dawned on me that a 17 year old boy was actually filming me.
“Miss looking good today” the boy filming me on his phone called out
“Yeah Miss, next time it would be sexier if you wore heels with that skirt.”
“Yeah miss, and you have a run in your stocking, it looks good though leave it.” I did have a hole in my stocking, a small one right on my knee cap. As one by one my year 11 boys began to make comments on my body and outfit(which was a below the knees black skirt, black stockings, a blue button up polo, and a black blazer...I assure you nothing provocative) I turned around, walked over to my desk, and sat down. I took the camera phone from the boy who had been taping me and said “This is unacceptable behavior. I am a professional, I work very hard for you guys, and you are treating me with more disrespect than I have ever been treated in my life. For the rest of the class period, we will sit here in silence. If you want to leave, I won’t stop you. I won’t even report you. I’m done for the day.” Nobody left, and we sat in silence.
That evening a staff member called me to see if I was okay, and I was. I was just frustrated. I felt like a joke. A bunch of 17 year old boys had not only been harassing me during class period, but it was the group of boys I’ve been working so hard for, and my feelings were not hurt, but I felt like they had completely insulted my intelligence.
The next day I walked into class and waited at my desk for the boys to come boisterously pouring into the room as they usually did, but one by one they came in and took their seats. I stood up in front of the board, shoulders back, head high, and began speaking.
“If I am going to work this hard to make sure you all pass your assessments, we need to set a few ground rules. What happened yesterday was sexual harassment, and I will NOT tolerate it. I have already passed high school English, I have already graduated from college, and I do NOT need to put up with that kind of disrespect. You are not here to comment on my body, you are not here to comment on my clothing, and you are not here to video tape me or ask for my phone number. You are here to learn, and I am here to teach you, and there will be zero tolerance for any other type of behavior. Do you all understand?”
The boys all nodded, and I began the lesson.
I want the boys to start thinking about their lives more deeply. They are more than bodies in seats, and while some of you may think I am absolutely crazy to want to hear anything they have to say after being treated that way, I am still here to do my job and I will do it to the fullest. I wrote the words “what is your biggest fear” and “what is the greatest lesson you’ve learned in life” on the board and gave the boys 30 minutes to free write. Many of them have never been given a writing prompt before, and many of them didn’t even know what free writing was, but many of them wrote their hearts on the paper. One boy wrote about losing his aunt who had only been given a short time to live, another wrote about being scared of not being a good boyfriend and husband some day and always wanting to be there for the person he loved. Another boy wrote about bees, but he wrote about bees in a way that was comical, yet made everyone listening shiver at the sting of a bee. It was a wonderful follow up to the previous shaky class.
I took their class notebooks home with me that night and read them, making comments where I thought they could elaborate and noting grammar and spelling errors. The next day we worked on revision because again, most of these boys have been asked to hand in paragraphs instead of papers, been given a pass or fail, and the boys have never done anything further with their writing, perhaps because nobody ever thought they had anything worth writing about. I didn’t expect the boys to be interested in rewriting and editing their own work, but sure enough after I went through what revising and editing meant, almost every hand shot up for help, and the more they revised their own work, the more they sought my approval that they were doing a good job. I gave them the feedback I felt they needed and deserved and a few of the boys even said they really liked revising their own creative writing and they hoped we would get to do more of it.
There have definitely been struggles, they say your student teaching year is one of your hardest years of teaching, and being here alone means I often times have to encourage and support myself. It has been a long and tumultuous week or two, reliving the day my brother died, followed by my dog being put down, some discouragements at the school, and even personal difficulties occurring in my life, have all seemed troubling. Just when support seems like all I need, I realize I may be a little more alone than I thought I was.
I know that sometimes we think that by being heroes and doing what seems to be “the right thing” it logistically should make everything easier, but in doing so what we forget is often times what is comfortable and familiar IS exactly what we need. Whether that’s two arms thrown around you from the person you care about, encouraging words from a parent, funny video clips from a friend, or a job offer that makes you realize that home really is where the heart is, even if it scares us, we fight back against what we know to be comfortable, against all reason, because we're scared settling. I know at the end of all of this my growth, development, and leaps and bounds I will have made will be all worth it, and I will be ready to return to the United States confidently with a smile on my face, a fire in my heart, and a new set of tires.
After bending over backwards, a number of my lunch times given up, and my breaks spent working on trying to get disorganized students re focused, the final assessments in my year 11 class have all been handed in to me and the results are astounding. A boy who has never handed in a single assessment and just returned from suspension came and saw me at lunch on Thursday, and we worked through his assessment together piece by piece. He also told me that my class is the only class he doesn't "wopp" (an Aussie term for skipping class) and that I'm the only one who has ever made him feel like he could do something.
I also realized one of the main offenders who had been giving me a hard time, was struggling with his writing, and couldn't figure out what his greatest lesson in life was. Finally he figured out that his greatest lesson was to be a hard worker, because it taught him things other than just making money. When I asked him what kinds of other things he said "I don't know miss, like you have a lot of patience for teaching this class. We're hard. Nobody else would do this for us." He later apologized for acting the way he had last Friday, and we moved on from there, because I still believe in him.
Sometimes when people push you away, like my students for example, it's only because they've never really had anyone go to that length and effort to show them they are cared about. All you can really do is be there for people and hope they will also be there for you. Sometimes they might fight against you like my students did, but at some point they'll realize that you might actually be the one they need to get through it all.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Kryptonite
Teaching can be full of mighty triumphs, though what I may consider to be a mighty triumph, some may consider being pitiable examples of daily expectations. The tragedy to teaching is, you can think you’re getting through to somebody, and they can end up being a bag of charm with no intentions of following through. You can literally bend over backwards and they’ll turn around and pull the carpet right out from underneath you. Teaching has forced me into becoming this superhuman capable of putting up with extreme amounts of what used to be my kryptonite: bullshit.
It used to be that if somebody was bullshitting me, I would just turn my back on them, because I’ve never been able to deal with dishonesty. Playing games is not on my resume. Being a teacher has made me immune to this evil type of social interaction, because let’s face it, kids bullshit, A LOT. I did it all the time. Example:
Dad: Carley did you finish your homework?
Carley: Uh huh.
Consciously, I knew I had been on instant messenger for the past two hours, inhibiting me from doing my homework.
Dad: Carley, if you don’t pass in your assignments I’m turning the internet off for the whole summer
Carley: I did.
After 5 months of missing assignments, I was still furious with my dad when he turned off the internet for the summer, and the brilliant thing was IT WAS HIS FAULT my internet was turned off, not because I didn’t hand in my assignments, but because he was in control of the internet cord.
I think I've caught onto the fact that kids have a set vocabulary for assignment related conversation: “Uh huh” “I understand” “I will” “Don’t worry” “Yup” “Okay” “I promise”
Scenario:
Identical twins in my class “Allan” and “Jimmy”, whom I’ve mentioned before, have quite the repertoire of suspensions, police run ins, and missing assignments, and the school has decided that it has had enough of their “bullshit.” Letters were sent home to their parents, signed, and returned to class on Tuesday. The remarkable thing about “Allan” and “Jimmy” is that these boys are sharp, witty, and likable characters, they’re just lazy and a bit manipulative. All week during class we have been working on final assessments for the film unit we are currently on. I have given the entire class multiple chances to work on their assessments in the computer lab where I can help them individually and answer specific questions. Last Friday, I noticed the twins struggling so I pulled a chair up between them. After 80 minutes of struggling, I had successfully gotten the twins to type a paragraph each. “Jimmy” and “Allan” both had 6 substantial, thoughtful, original sentences which made up the introductory “recap” of the film before they write the next 3 paragraphs of their film reviews. I’ve never been fantastic at math, but that’s roughly 13 minutes per sentence. If it took the boys 13 minutes to SAY every sentence on a daily basis, particularly during my class, they would spend a majority of the class in silence. However, they were so proud of themselves and I was proud of them as well, and in my eyes it was a mighty victory.
However, they came into class 4 days later with glum faces and notices from the office. They asked if they could speak to me and I told them to each pull up a chair while the rest of the class worked on their assessments. The first thing they told me was that they didn’t understand what they were supposed to do.
“Boys, you didn’t do your work, it’s as simple as that.”
“Yes miss but…we don’t know what we have to make up!”
“Do you boys even WANT to pass? Because I want you to pass, but you have to want to.”
“Yes miss!” They both said eagerly and simultaneously the way twins do.
“Look boys,” I began “I’m going to be 100% honest with you, because I think you’re both very smart and very capable, but you’re both very lazy, and very good at not encouraging each other to get work done. From what I understand one of you is BARELY passing, and one of you is failing. I will do whatever is humanly possible to help you pass, but I need you boys to step up to bat. I won’t do the work for you but I’ll work WITH you,”
here comes the set list of vocabulary...brace yourself
“Am I being clear?” I asked after my pregame speech was over.
“Yup!” One of the twins answered.
“Can you two come in for lunch on Thursday?”
“We will.” The other replied.
“Okay, come see me in the faculty room and we’ll start getting you caught up.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t disappoint me, I’ll be waiting.”
“Don’t worry” One replied
“We promise” the other added.
Today was Thursday.
I waited for 10 minutes.
The twins never showed up.
My brain said wait longer but my stomach said feed me, so I let a fellow intern know where I was going and if the twins happen to stop by to tell them to wait in the computer lab for me. Walking back from the canteen where all the students eat, I heard familiar voices chiming out my name.
“You look very nice today miss!” The twins were standing with 5 or 6 other boys from my year 11 class, one nonchalantly sitting hunched over his meal and the other standing.
“I thought we had a deal?” I asked
“What deal?” Jimmy let out a Cheshire cat grin. Allan laughed. All the boys at the table laughed.
“You were supposed to come see me.”
“Aw Miss, you can see us now, here we are!” Allan added.
“Not today boys.” I smiled, and walked away.
When I returned to the staff room my fellow intern told me the twins never stopped by.
“Of course they didn’t I just saw them on the canteen.” I laughed.
Now the human Carley would have grabbed onto her pride for dear life in frustration and said “Make ME look stupid? Keep ME waiting? I don’t think so! You’re on your own.” But with this new found tolerance to kryptonite (aka bullshit) I find myself suddenly having a rapidly developed amount of patience, which somehow keeps me from pulling my hair out or giving up. I’m not looking for a palpable ‘white American girl from wealthy town comes to save lower socioeconomic “below standard” English students’ storyline, but I just believe I’m both persistent and clever enough to get through to these guys, even if it means making them so sick of me that they do their work just to get me to shut up, but when (not if) the twins pass, I will add it to my list of mighty triumphs.
That’s all for now
Stay tuned
~Carley B
It used to be that if somebody was bullshitting me, I would just turn my back on them, because I’ve never been able to deal with dishonesty. Playing games is not on my resume. Being a teacher has made me immune to this evil type of social interaction, because let’s face it, kids bullshit, A LOT. I did it all the time. Example:
Dad: Carley did you finish your homework?
Carley: Uh huh.
Consciously, I knew I had been on instant messenger for the past two hours, inhibiting me from doing my homework.
Dad: Carley, if you don’t pass in your assignments I’m turning the internet off for the whole summer
Carley: I did.
After 5 months of missing assignments, I was still furious with my dad when he turned off the internet for the summer, and the brilliant thing was IT WAS HIS FAULT my internet was turned off, not because I didn’t hand in my assignments, but because he was in control of the internet cord.
I think I've caught onto the fact that kids have a set vocabulary for assignment related conversation: “Uh huh” “I understand” “I will” “Don’t worry” “Yup” “Okay” “I promise”
Scenario:
Identical twins in my class “Allan” and “Jimmy”, whom I’ve mentioned before, have quite the repertoire of suspensions, police run ins, and missing assignments, and the school has decided that it has had enough of their “bullshit.” Letters were sent home to their parents, signed, and returned to class on Tuesday. The remarkable thing about “Allan” and “Jimmy” is that these boys are sharp, witty, and likable characters, they’re just lazy and a bit manipulative. All week during class we have been working on final assessments for the film unit we are currently on. I have given the entire class multiple chances to work on their assessments in the computer lab where I can help them individually and answer specific questions. Last Friday, I noticed the twins struggling so I pulled a chair up between them. After 80 minutes of struggling, I had successfully gotten the twins to type a paragraph each. “Jimmy” and “Allan” both had 6 substantial, thoughtful, original sentences which made up the introductory “recap” of the film before they write the next 3 paragraphs of their film reviews. I’ve never been fantastic at math, but that’s roughly 13 minutes per sentence. If it took the boys 13 minutes to SAY every sentence on a daily basis, particularly during my class, they would spend a majority of the class in silence. However, they were so proud of themselves and I was proud of them as well, and in my eyes it was a mighty victory.
However, they came into class 4 days later with glum faces and notices from the office. They asked if they could speak to me and I told them to each pull up a chair while the rest of the class worked on their assessments. The first thing they told me was that they didn’t understand what they were supposed to do.
“Boys, you didn’t do your work, it’s as simple as that.”
“Yes miss but…we don’t know what we have to make up!”
“Do you boys even WANT to pass? Because I want you to pass, but you have to want to.”
“Yes miss!” They both said eagerly and simultaneously the way twins do.
“Look boys,” I began “I’m going to be 100% honest with you, because I think you’re both very smart and very capable, but you’re both very lazy, and very good at not encouraging each other to get work done. From what I understand one of you is BARELY passing, and one of you is failing. I will do whatever is humanly possible to help you pass, but I need you boys to step up to bat. I won’t do the work for you but I’ll work WITH you,”
here comes the set list of vocabulary...brace yourself
“Am I being clear?” I asked after my pregame speech was over.
“Yup!” One of the twins answered.
“Can you two come in for lunch on Thursday?”
“We will.” The other replied.
“Okay, come see me in the faculty room and we’ll start getting you caught up.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t disappoint me, I’ll be waiting.”
“Don’t worry” One replied
“We promise” the other added.
Today was Thursday.
I waited for 10 minutes.
The twins never showed up.
My brain said wait longer but my stomach said feed me, so I let a fellow intern know where I was going and if the twins happen to stop by to tell them to wait in the computer lab for me. Walking back from the canteen where all the students eat, I heard familiar voices chiming out my name.
“You look very nice today miss!” The twins were standing with 5 or 6 other boys from my year 11 class, one nonchalantly sitting hunched over his meal and the other standing.
“I thought we had a deal?” I asked
“What deal?” Jimmy let out a Cheshire cat grin. Allan laughed. All the boys at the table laughed.
“You were supposed to come see me.”
“Aw Miss, you can see us now, here we are!” Allan added.
“Not today boys.” I smiled, and walked away.
When I returned to the staff room my fellow intern told me the twins never stopped by.
“Of course they didn’t I just saw them on the canteen.” I laughed.
Now the human Carley would have grabbed onto her pride for dear life in frustration and said “Make ME look stupid? Keep ME waiting? I don’t think so! You’re on your own.” But with this new found tolerance to kryptonite (aka bullshit) I find myself suddenly having a rapidly developed amount of patience, which somehow keeps me from pulling my hair out or giving up. I’m not looking for a palpable ‘white American girl from wealthy town comes to save lower socioeconomic “below standard” English students’ storyline, but I just believe I’m both persistent and clever enough to get through to these guys, even if it means making them so sick of me that they do their work just to get me to shut up, but when (not if) the twins pass, I will add it to my list of mighty triumphs.
That’s all for now
Stay tuned
~Carley B
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Word Choice.
Many days I walk away knowing exactly why I went into teaching, I feel like everything has gone according to plan, and even if I was not able to go according to plan, because let’s face it sometimes as teachers we have to improvise, I at least feel that everybody walked out of the room with something to think about. Today was not one of those ‘run smoothly’ days.
Third period I had my year 9 class, freshmen as we would call them in the US. While they are not the most mature human beings, they are typically a fun class to work with. Half way through most classes I find myself needing some sort of energy shake because they are an excitable class, the slightest side comment could get them off track, but MOST days with some guidance they find their track again and we are back in business. Again, today was not one of those days either. Things started out alright. No class ever starts with “SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU FAGGOT” or “YOU HAVE NO FRIENDS” but some classes certainly end that way. Today WAS one of those days.
The lesson was on word choice, specifically in Shakespeare, however the kids were having a bit of trouble with it and understandably, going through the motions of literary techniques and devices can be boring. I decided to try to get my year 9’s to connect on a more personal level of word choice by again relating it to music. I figured since 99.9% of my class comes in every day with their ipods in, that they must actually be LISTENING to something. First I wrote on the board “But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.” I asked the class what it meant and they diligently decoded shakespearespeak into normal human talk. Then I asked the class “Well, why didn’t Shakespeare just say… “Yeah, Juliet is pretty hot” The class laughed, one of my favorite sounds. “Jake” a smart boy with a lot of potential, a charismatic personality, but a deep lazy streak replied, “…Because he was using specific words that would sound more interesting.” Bingo, nicely done “Jake”.
I asked the students to open their laptops and to spend the next 10 or so minutes thinking about a song that really grabs them lyrically. Then they were to type a few of the lyrics of the song that they felt spoke to them and write a brief 4-5 sentence response on who they felt the musician was speaking to, what they were trying to say, and why the words they chose were effective.
“Any song we want Miss?” Asked “Stephen”
“Yes Stephen, ANY song you want.” Stephen sat at his desk with a devious smirk on his face. Stephen doesn’t ever do his work. Actually, correction: Stephen isn’t USED to doing his work, but in my class, he will do it, even if it means altering the way I approach it with him, and even if it means I can only get him to connect for 15 minutes. I knew Stephen was going to choose an inappropriate song just to see what buttons he could push, and I also knew I had two choices: I could make him choose a different song, or I could take a gamble and work with what he choose. If you know me at all, you won’t have to ask which choice I sided with.
“So what do you have for me Stephen?”
“Fuck the police by NWA, but look I wrote it out like this.” Stephen pointed to his paper and on his paper he had written ‘f**k the police’, at least he was being courteous.
“Good Stephen.” Stephen looked at me a little confused. “I can’t tell you what music you listen to, and if this is what you listen to, let’s do something with it. Why would NWA say this?”
“I donno.” Stephen mumbled.
“You chose the song, you listen to it, what do you think it means?”
“I think it means he thinks the police are racist.” LIGHTBULB!!!!! I almost jumped up and down at the thought of Stephen connecting racism to a song about hating the police, by an early 90’s rap group. Ecstatic.
“Why do you think he uses the f-word? Why not just say he hates the police?”
“Because it’s more powerful, it makes a statement.” He replied. AGAIN, EUREKA!!! Stephen willingly wrote his answers down and when I went around the room to ask people to share, he voluntarily raised his hand, a gesture I’ve never seen from him.
You may be thinking geez, not such a bad day, but trust me I’ve been focusing on Stephen’s achievement all afternoon whenever I’ve had negative thoughts about what happened next.
-two girls had an altercation and “Amanda” yelled across the room to “Sharon” to shut up and that she had no friends
-“Mark” said the word “Faggot” approximately 30 times, and when I asked him politely to pick a different word he said “why miss, a faggot is a bundle of sticks according to the dictionary.”
-“Amanda” then told “Stephen” to pull up his pants, because like every teenage boy he was wearing his pants below his bottom. “Stephen”, who had FINALLY shown signs of completing work, looked up and shouted, “shut the fuck up” to Amanda.
I guess swearing really is more effective.
Amanda said nothing else.
I did.
I slammed my book down on the desk and watched as the entire class went from chaos to complete stillness. Literally, nobody moved. I’d feel confident in saying nobody breathed for a minute.
"Enough." I looked around the room as 15 sets of eyes gazed back at me. “You don’t have to LIKE each other, but when you step into this classroom, you WILL respect each other. If you want to go out to the cantine after class and have a go, that’s none of my business, but for the 80 minutes that you are sitting here, you will NOT treat each other like this. It’s rude to each other, and it’s rude to me, do you understand?” Everybody nodded.
Now, if you think I overreacted then so be it, but keep in mind I had firmly, but calmly asked the class several times if they would be respectful, and I will not tolerate derogatory remarks in my classroom. Period. The way I gained their attention was unfortunate in my eyes, and involved raising my voice which I rarely do. Actually, I wouldn’t even say “I can count the number of times I’ve raised my voice on one hand” because it happens that rarely. With that being said, I will never allow that kind of disrespect in my classroom. Every student has a right to walk into a classroom and feel safe and comfortable around their peers. That means if a student is calling another student a faggot, telling them to shut the fuck up, or telling them they have no friends, it is not only my job but it is my duty to put an end to it.
Comic relief was supplied 5 minutes after when I was looking for my Romeo and Juliet book and a student lightheartedly chimed, “its right here Miss! Where you last slammed it!” Again, the class laughed and it was back to my favorite sound.
~Carley B
Third period I had my year 9 class, freshmen as we would call them in the US. While they are not the most mature human beings, they are typically a fun class to work with. Half way through most classes I find myself needing some sort of energy shake because they are an excitable class, the slightest side comment could get them off track, but MOST days with some guidance they find their track again and we are back in business. Again, today was not one of those days either. Things started out alright. No class ever starts with “SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU FAGGOT” or “YOU HAVE NO FRIENDS” but some classes certainly end that way. Today WAS one of those days.
The lesson was on word choice, specifically in Shakespeare, however the kids were having a bit of trouble with it and understandably, going through the motions of literary techniques and devices can be boring. I decided to try to get my year 9’s to connect on a more personal level of word choice by again relating it to music. I figured since 99.9% of my class comes in every day with their ipods in, that they must actually be LISTENING to something. First I wrote on the board “But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.” I asked the class what it meant and they diligently decoded shakespearespeak into normal human talk. Then I asked the class “Well, why didn’t Shakespeare just say… “Yeah, Juliet is pretty hot” The class laughed, one of my favorite sounds. “Jake” a smart boy with a lot of potential, a charismatic personality, but a deep lazy streak replied, “…Because he was using specific words that would sound more interesting.” Bingo, nicely done “Jake”.
I asked the students to open their laptops and to spend the next 10 or so minutes thinking about a song that really grabs them lyrically. Then they were to type a few of the lyrics of the song that they felt spoke to them and write a brief 4-5 sentence response on who they felt the musician was speaking to, what they were trying to say, and why the words they chose were effective.
“Any song we want Miss?” Asked “Stephen”
“Yes Stephen, ANY song you want.” Stephen sat at his desk with a devious smirk on his face. Stephen doesn’t ever do his work. Actually, correction: Stephen isn’t USED to doing his work, but in my class, he will do it, even if it means altering the way I approach it with him, and even if it means I can only get him to connect for 15 minutes. I knew Stephen was going to choose an inappropriate song just to see what buttons he could push, and I also knew I had two choices: I could make him choose a different song, or I could take a gamble and work with what he choose. If you know me at all, you won’t have to ask which choice I sided with.
“So what do you have for me Stephen?”
“Fuck the police by NWA, but look I wrote it out like this.” Stephen pointed to his paper and on his paper he had written ‘f**k the police’, at least he was being courteous.
“Good Stephen.” Stephen looked at me a little confused. “I can’t tell you what music you listen to, and if this is what you listen to, let’s do something with it. Why would NWA say this?”
“I donno.” Stephen mumbled.
“You chose the song, you listen to it, what do you think it means?”
“I think it means he thinks the police are racist.” LIGHTBULB!!!!! I almost jumped up and down at the thought of Stephen connecting racism to a song about hating the police, by an early 90’s rap group. Ecstatic.
“Why do you think he uses the f-word? Why not just say he hates the police?”
“Because it’s more powerful, it makes a statement.” He replied. AGAIN, EUREKA!!! Stephen willingly wrote his answers down and when I went around the room to ask people to share, he voluntarily raised his hand, a gesture I’ve never seen from him.
You may be thinking geez, not such a bad day, but trust me I’ve been focusing on Stephen’s achievement all afternoon whenever I’ve had negative thoughts about what happened next.
-two girls had an altercation and “Amanda” yelled across the room to “Sharon” to shut up and that she had no friends
-“Mark” said the word “Faggot” approximately 30 times, and when I asked him politely to pick a different word he said “why miss, a faggot is a bundle of sticks according to the dictionary.”
-“Amanda” then told “Stephen” to pull up his pants, because like every teenage boy he was wearing his pants below his bottom. “Stephen”, who had FINALLY shown signs of completing work, looked up and shouted, “shut the fuck up” to Amanda.
I guess swearing really is more effective.
Amanda said nothing else.
I did.
I slammed my book down on the desk and watched as the entire class went from chaos to complete stillness. Literally, nobody moved. I’d feel confident in saying nobody breathed for a minute.
"Enough." I looked around the room as 15 sets of eyes gazed back at me. “You don’t have to LIKE each other, but when you step into this classroom, you WILL respect each other. If you want to go out to the cantine after class and have a go, that’s none of my business, but for the 80 minutes that you are sitting here, you will NOT treat each other like this. It’s rude to each other, and it’s rude to me, do you understand?” Everybody nodded.
Now, if you think I overreacted then so be it, but keep in mind I had firmly, but calmly asked the class several times if they would be respectful, and I will not tolerate derogatory remarks in my classroom. Period. The way I gained their attention was unfortunate in my eyes, and involved raising my voice which I rarely do. Actually, I wouldn’t even say “I can count the number of times I’ve raised my voice on one hand” because it happens that rarely. With that being said, I will never allow that kind of disrespect in my classroom. Every student has a right to walk into a classroom and feel safe and comfortable around their peers. That means if a student is calling another student a faggot, telling them to shut the fuck up, or telling them they have no friends, it is not only my job but it is my duty to put an end to it.
Comic relief was supplied 5 minutes after when I was looking for my Romeo and Juliet book and a student lightheartedly chimed, “its right here Miss! Where you last slammed it!” Again, the class laughed and it was back to my favorite sound.
~Carley B
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