Can someone please explain to me why it is that women are such bitches?
Why is it that when you get a certain amount of estrogen in a room, all just goes straight to hell?
Now, I'm not saying all of them are. I work with a large amount of women who are phenomenal human beings, real high-quality ladies. They vent and laugh and share. When you're done speaking with them, you feel better about yourself. They are life preservers. They are rays of sunshine. They can become the reason for going to work, for getting up in the morning.
But the rest? Sweet lord tap dancin' in a tin can. What is this?
People always assume that men are competitive, but I think that truly, women are worse. Why? Because when women are competitive, it isn't always overt. There is often no obvious bravado, no chest-thumping. It's a secret war, a quiet war. A manipulative, whispery war of shadows and vicious gossip. Say one thing, do another. And smile. And lie. Oh, hi! Good morning. Fake cheer and big smiles and then? Well, just wait. Turn your back, and see what expression she makes.
Why are there not more women politicians? I know some who'd be fantastic.
Why is it this way?
Why don't I see the menfolk acting like this?
I can see several reasons.
1. They don't care. They have either enough self-confidence that they don't need to put anyone down, or if they don't have a lot of confidence, they are too mellow to really care.
2. They don't want to waste the energy.
3. If they do want to compete, they make it into a fun game, something that unites them more instead of tearing each other down.
Why do women tear each other down? Why must we always be better than someone else? Why can't we just be honest with each other? Why are we always so defensive? Why is it that we always feel like we have something to prove? Why can't we just be happy with ourselves, our progress?
Why can't I just ask a simple question and get a simple answer? Why can't I ask a question without someone assuming it's a loaded one? Why can't we just talk? Why can't we just be real with each other?
Why is this so damn difficult?
When I think about myself, two truths emerge.
1. I love to learn.
2. I love to be helpful.
I went into teaching because of these two things. (Not because I "simply adore the children", although, of course you have to enjoy the little demons to teach.)
But, these core ideas aren't the same for everyone, and I realize that. Some people see education as a buisness, teaching as a competition.
And you know, I'm not perfect. I have a lot of work to do. I am not as efficient as I could be. I don't differenciate as much as I should. I'm still learning to be more patient. I'm learning ways of being more helpful. Of communicating better with my students and my peers. But, I'm aware of my faults. And I'm trying to be better each day, a day a time.
I just wonder-- why can't more of us just... try to reach and pull each other up? Why don't more of us feel good about being helpful instead of hurtful? Why do we assume that if we help someone else shine, that that makes us shine less?
Its like that old proverb about love. You know the one-- the more love you give, the more love you get? When you help someone, when you make someone feel better, or collaborate, or share, or just be a decent human being.... you both shine more brightly.
Why must we always try to take on all the credit to ourselves? Why must we all try to outshine each other?
Thursday, March 06, 2008
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Friday, February 29, 2008
Colonel Colossal Returns
A couple years ago, one student remarked in her notebook that her svelte and stunning brunette student teacher had one positively startling quality: her fat ass.
The student teacher? Me. The girl? Mortified that I called her out. The resolution? Public tears of humiliation from the student, secret tears of laughter from the teacher.
Today, that teacher returns. Only now, she's navigated the trenches, she's bounded over the trip wire, she's vaulted over the minefield. She's ready for anything. Put on your hard hat, baby. Here we go.
The time? 3:15 pm. The place? Pod 4. The occasion? Thursday Girl's Club. There we were, building confidence, talkin' smack (or... you know... s'math...) , when suddenly, a round of fiendish giggling erupts from the troops. Battle clad as always, I raise my eyebrows and shoot a withering, dart like look. Daring them to giggle once again.
A wave of whispers, hands cupped to neighboring ears, the sound of rose petals falling on cellophane, of crinkling wax paper, of water softly falling. But even with bionic hearing... I can not make out the words. The fearless sergeant folds.
"Okay, okay. I give. What's so darn funny?" I bark.
More whispers and giggles.
Then, hesitantly, "Do I want to know?"
Replies Princess Valeria. "OHH, yes. Yes, you do."
The teacher breaks. "Okay then. Spill it, sistah."
"Well," Giggles starts, then cracking herself up, buries her wide white smile behind her hands.
"You tell it!"
Princess Valeria continues. "Well, you know what Ruben said? Ruben said... that you have...."
Well, well?
The student teacher? Me. The girl? Mortified that I called her out. The resolution? Public tears of humiliation from the student, secret tears of laughter from the teacher.
Today, that teacher returns. Only now, she's navigated the trenches, she's bounded over the trip wire, she's vaulted over the minefield. She's ready for anything. Put on your hard hat, baby. Here we go.
The time? 3:15 pm. The place? Pod 4. The occasion? Thursday Girl's Club. There we were, building confidence, talkin' smack (or... you know... s'math...) , when suddenly, a round of fiendish giggling erupts from the troops. Battle clad as always, I raise my eyebrows and shoot a withering, dart like look. Daring them to giggle once again.
A wave of whispers, hands cupped to neighboring ears, the sound of rose petals falling on cellophane, of crinkling wax paper, of water softly falling. But even with bionic hearing... I can not make out the words. The fearless sergeant folds.
"Okay, okay. I give. What's so darn funny?" I bark.
More whispers and giggles.
Then, hesitantly, "Do I want to know?"
Replies Princess Valeria. "OHH, yes. Yes, you do."
The teacher breaks. "Okay then. Spill it, sistah."
"Well," Giggles starts, then cracking herself up, buries her wide white smile behind her hands.
"You tell it!"
Princess Valeria continues. "Well, you know what Ruben said? Ruben said... that you have...."
Well, well?
"A... BIG BUTT!"
Laughter fills the room like mustard gas. I nearly wet my pants I laugh so hard. All 120 pounds shakes likes a seismograph in action.
Fast forward 2300 Hours>>>
Time? 2:15. Place? The kidney table. The subject? Social studies. The battle pants: On.
"So, guys. I heard something really hilarious last night. You wanna hear?"
"Yeah!" the chorus replies.
"Apparently, according to Ruben, I have a huge butt."
A deadly nanosecond of silence. The deadly stench of fear (or is that BO?)
You can almost hear it. The thought on everyone's mind: Oh shit. Is she pissed?
And then I grin. Instantly the class morphs into a troop of howler monkeys.
Puppy scurries to Ruben, yipping madly, eyeing up his pant leg and licking his chops.
And Ruben? Ruben is scarlet. He punctuates the laughter with defiant screaming: What?! WHAT?! WHO TOLD YOU THAT?!
The class turns their teary eyes back to me.
"Sorry Ruben. That's classified information. If I told you...well you know. And I have just the tool to do it."
I point at my derriere.
The class explodes a second time.
Colonel Colossal? Victorious again.
Melodic Silence
Most of the time, 615 sounds more akin to a zoo than a library.
For example: I have one seriously ADHD kid I refer to as "Puppy." Puppy scampers around my room on all fours, comes when I call, and more often than not... woofs. (He is, I should note, housebroken.) Puppy also sits nicely and receives pats on the head and cookies when he can be still and listen for longer than 5 minutes.
I am not kidding.
The room is also starting to smell like a zoo. The "budding adolescents" smell significantly less flowery than the term might suggest. Instead, the Phoenix sun melts their hides, turning the air into something reminiscent of the barn at high noon.
There are constant hoots, hollers, monkey sounds, smooching noises. You want to teach onomatopoeia? Stop on by.
Today? I wanted some quiet. I was tired. For once, I just wanted to pretend like I was in some middle class suburb somewhere, with perfect students in perfect rows with perfect grammar and perfect, robotic smiles.
But I'm not mad. I know my limits. I know there still has to be something zany going on to keep their attention. So this is what I said:
"Okay. Here's the deal. Today, I want quiet. Total, still, absolute, gorgeous quiet. With one exception. The only, and I do mean only, thing that should permeate this room... should be..."
"Your voice?"
"No."
"Us breathing?"
"No. There will be no breathing."
(At this, a uniform gasp as several students begin the process of becoming blue)
"No, the only sound I want to hear... is Edgar singing."
For Edgar, you see, likes to pretend he is an opera singer. (Viking helmet, flaxen braids, buxom as all get out... the whole package.)
At this, Edgar's eyes lit up, and from the place where vicious comments flow like molten lava, came a surprising sound; a high pitched, smooth tone, even and clear.
"Laaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
No vibrato, no old-lady warble. And no adolescent voice-changing cracks. (Do I dare insert a Vienna Boys Choir joke in here?)
And so, for 50 minutes, I had my wish. The students worked hard, and randomly, every few minutes, came a note of glorious clarity.
"Laaaa!"
The class would laugh ever so quietly for a few seconds... and then, my perfect silence remained.
At the end of the hour, all of the work was turned in, and Edgar commented,
"You know? I think I should do this for the talent show."
"You know? I think maybe you're right."
615's very own Pavarotti.
For example: I have one seriously ADHD kid I refer to as "Puppy." Puppy scampers around my room on all fours, comes when I call, and more often than not... woofs. (He is, I should note, housebroken.) Puppy also sits nicely and receives pats on the head and cookies when he can be still and listen for longer than 5 minutes.
I am not kidding.
The room is also starting to smell like a zoo. The "budding adolescents" smell significantly less flowery than the term might suggest. Instead, the Phoenix sun melts their hides, turning the air into something reminiscent of the barn at high noon.
There are constant hoots, hollers, monkey sounds, smooching noises. You want to teach onomatopoeia? Stop on by.
Today? I wanted some quiet. I was tired. For once, I just wanted to pretend like I was in some middle class suburb somewhere, with perfect students in perfect rows with perfect grammar and perfect, robotic smiles.
But I'm not mad. I know my limits. I know there still has to be something zany going on to keep their attention. So this is what I said:
"Okay. Here's the deal. Today, I want quiet. Total, still, absolute, gorgeous quiet. With one exception. The only, and I do mean only, thing that should permeate this room... should be..."
"Your voice?"
"No."
"Us breathing?"
"No. There will be no breathing."
(At this, a uniform gasp as several students begin the process of becoming blue)
"No, the only sound I want to hear... is Edgar singing."
For Edgar, you see, likes to pretend he is an opera singer. (Viking helmet, flaxen braids, buxom as all get out... the whole package.)
At this, Edgar's eyes lit up, and from the place where vicious comments flow like molten lava, came a surprising sound; a high pitched, smooth tone, even and clear.
"Laaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
No vibrato, no old-lady warble. And no adolescent voice-changing cracks. (Do I dare insert a Vienna Boys Choir joke in here?)
And so, for 50 minutes, I had my wish. The students worked hard, and randomly, every few minutes, came a note of glorious clarity.
"Laaaa!"
The class would laugh ever so quietly for a few seconds... and then, my perfect silence remained.
At the end of the hour, all of the work was turned in, and Edgar commented,
"You know? I think I should do this for the talent show."
"You know? I think maybe you're right."
615's very own Pavarotti.
Friday, February 22, 2008
P.s.
Okay, for the record... I have no idea who reads this thing. Or if anyone other than my mother does. So, if you could, could you leave me a wee note? I like to know who makes up my constituency. ;)
Big Flooding Fun
Question: What is best the best thing about studying ancient civilizations?
Answer: Recreating.... AND DESTROYING THEM!
Today I gave the (qualified) little rascals:
2 aluminum pans
two types of dirt
4 index cards
a handful of straws
10 inches of tape
two handfuls of pebbles
They recreated a stretch of China's Yellow River bed, then built levees on either side. After that, when they were certain of their brilliance, I sprinkled tiny bits of blue construction paper on the "land."
And then? I dumped a glass full of water into their water canal. WHOOSH! OH GOD! MISS J NOOOOOO!
HAHAHAH! DESTRUCTION!
The test? If the paper shifted or got wet, their levee failed, their crops flooded, their homes were lost, and everybody died horrible deaths.
If not? They saved the world.
The best part was hearing their discussion afterwords.
"The topsoil worked well, but the land that was sand was a problem-- all of the water was held back at first, but then it sank under the levee and was sucked up by the sand."
"How could we fix that?"
"We have to contain the water better.... or make sure we don't build our houses on sand."
Then,
"Miss J, you were right. Today was way fun."
"What'd I tell you? If you work hard, that's what happens."
"I guess we have to trust you, huh?"
"It's not a bad plan."
Answer: Recreating.... AND DESTROYING THEM!
Today I gave the (qualified) little rascals:
2 aluminum pans
two types of dirt
4 index cards
a handful of straws
10 inches of tape
two handfuls of pebbles
They recreated a stretch of China's Yellow River bed, then built levees on either side. After that, when they were certain of their brilliance, I sprinkled tiny bits of blue construction paper on the "land."
And then? I dumped a glass full of water into their water canal. WHOOSH! OH GOD! MISS J NOOOOOO!
HAHAHAH! DESTRUCTION!
The test? If the paper shifted or got wet, their levee failed, their crops flooded, their homes were lost, and everybody died horrible deaths.
If not? They saved the world.
The best part was hearing their discussion afterwords.
"The topsoil worked well, but the land that was sand was a problem-- all of the water was held back at first, but then it sank under the levee and was sucked up by the sand."
"How could we fix that?"
"We have to contain the water better.... or make sure we don't build our houses on sand."
Then,
"Miss J, you were right. Today was way fun."
"What'd I tell you? If you work hard, that's what happens."
"I guess we have to trust you, huh?"
"It's not a bad plan."
Updog
Inspired by the American version of The Office, I had to try a joke out on my kids.....
(Sitting down at a table full of smartasses)
"Wow, Devin. You...kind of smell like updog."
"WHAT?!"
"You know, updog."
"What the heck is that?"
(well, shit. This joke isn't going to work... but I'm going to screw with his head for as long as I can....)
"What the heck is what?"
"What you just said?"
"What did I just say?"
"MISS J! For real. What is it?"
"What is what?"
Soon, other students start chiming in, and it becomes a game like 20 questions.
"Is it like puke?"
"Does it come out the anus?"
"Is it bad?"
"Is it wet dog?"
"Is it worse than Edgar's singing?"
"OH! OH! I got it. Its a BOWEL OBSTRUCTION!"
And finally....
Adrian: Updog? What's updog?
Me: Not much, what's up with you?
I throw my head back and laugh hysterically.
Adrian just looks at me.
"Seriously, Miss J. What is it?"
Oh god. This may take a while....
(Sitting down at a table full of smartasses)
"Wow, Devin. You...kind of smell like updog."
"WHAT?!"
"You know, updog."
"What the heck is that?"
(well, shit. This joke isn't going to work... but I'm going to screw with his head for as long as I can....)
"What the heck is what?"
"What you just said?"
"What did I just say?"
"MISS J! For real. What is it?"
"What is what?"
Soon, other students start chiming in, and it becomes a game like 20 questions.
"Is it like puke?"
"Does it come out the anus?"
"Is it bad?"
"Is it wet dog?"
"Is it worse than Edgar's singing?"
"OH! OH! I got it. Its a BOWEL OBSTRUCTION!"
And finally....
Adrian: Updog? What's updog?
Me: Not much, what's up with you?
I throw my head back and laugh hysterically.
Adrian just looks at me.
"Seriously, Miss J. What is it?"
Oh god. This may take a while....
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Return of the Brunette Dynamo
"Miss J, I have detention tonight again. Its that same damn teacher. He's DOGGIN' me. He won't let me do anythin'. I can't even go throw something in the trash."
"That sucks, Monica. Not sure what I can tell you. Are you still being an ass to him?"
"NO! Well... maybe. Is 8th grade going to suck like this?"
"I don't know, m'dear, but I can tell you this-- I've been thinking about seeing if I can teach 8th grade next year."
"WHAT?! What subject.... SCIENCE?! OH MY GOD MISS J YOU SO ROCK MY WORLD!!!"
She runs out, huge grin on her face.
I will never tire of this girl.
"That sucks, Monica. Not sure what I can tell you. Are you still being an ass to him?"
"NO! Well... maybe. Is 8th grade going to suck like this?"
"I don't know, m'dear, but I can tell you this-- I've been thinking about seeing if I can teach 8th grade next year."
"WHAT?! What subject.... SCIENCE?! OH MY GOD MISS J YOU SO ROCK MY WORLD!!!"
She runs out, huge grin on her face.
I will never tire of this girl.
Fingerpaints & Rorschach
"This feels like KINDERGARTEN!" shouts a smiling 6th grader, yellow paint all over her hands.
"Look! I got my nails done," kids one of the boys, scarlet dripping from his fingertips.
Another girl has a red streak across her forehead. But there is no paint on the floor. Everybody is participating and I think...I hope... most are learning.
"What do you think this looks like?" asks one student, holding the paper sideways.
"What do you see?"
"I see dancing bunnies!"
"Dancing bunnies? That looks like your MOM," a smartass student replies, mock-scoffing.
"You look like my mom," I retort.
"BUUUUUUURN!"
We were fingerpainting in math class. What better way to continue teaching reflections than by fingerpainting? We made our own Rorschach inkblots (using both x and y axes mind you) then built reflections with manipulatives and used green plastic psuedo-mirrors to test them.
After school, my Elite Wednesday Crew solved problems like this:
One side of a square is 7x-2. If the perimeter is 160 cm, what is x?
Use the distributive process to solve the perimeter of a regular pentagon if one side is 3s + 6 and s equals 4.
AND THEY DID IT. (Can you?) All while on a Sour Skittles high.
Later, I'll tell you how I taught my second class how to differenciate rotations, translations and reflections using the Three Little Pigs and Little Red Riding Hood. :)
I'm such a genius, it kills me.
More later. I've had a good day, and will now commence this momentous occasion by partaking in one of my all time favorite activities-- sleeping. Adios!
"Look! I got my nails done," kids one of the boys, scarlet dripping from his fingertips.
Another girl has a red streak across her forehead. But there is no paint on the floor. Everybody is participating and I think...I hope... most are learning.
"What do you think this looks like?" asks one student, holding the paper sideways.
"What do you see?"
"I see dancing bunnies!"
"Dancing bunnies? That looks like your MOM," a smartass student replies, mock-scoffing.
"You look like my mom," I retort.
"BUUUUUUURN!"
We were fingerpainting in math class. What better way to continue teaching reflections than by fingerpainting? We made our own Rorschach inkblots (using both x and y axes mind you) then built reflections with manipulatives and used green plastic psuedo-mirrors to test them.
After school, my Elite Wednesday Crew solved problems like this:
One side of a square is 7x-2. If the perimeter is 160 cm, what is x?
Use the distributive process to solve the perimeter of a regular pentagon if one side is 3s + 6 and s equals 4.
AND THEY DID IT. (Can you?) All while on a Sour Skittles high.
Later, I'll tell you how I taught my second class how to differenciate rotations, translations and reflections using the Three Little Pigs and Little Red Riding Hood. :)
I'm such a genius, it kills me.
More later. I've had a good day, and will now commence this momentous occasion by partaking in one of my all time favorite activities-- sleeping. Adios!
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Today's Happy Snippets
Bored Kid who Doesn't want to Finish his Exam: "Miss J, I need to go to the nurse."
Bored Teacher who Just wants to Dance: Oh yeah? Pretty sure she doesn't treat mental problems."
Bored Class: BUUUUUUUUUUURN!!!!!
Kid:"Can I go see the counselor then?"
Laughter.
"Miss J, you and Jacob should have a rap off."
"What me, white girl, with white boy? Yeah, that should be good."
(Jacob) "That's gonna be the name of my first track. White Girl. Top 50. Right up there with Soldier Cookie [his G rated version of Soulja Boy or whatever the hell its called]"
What's hilarious about this? Jacob can actually rap. He's like Weird Al but...weirder. And you know, (brushing off shoulder) , I'm not so bad myself. Precipitation........
Bored Teacher who Just wants to Dance: Oh yeah? Pretty sure she doesn't treat mental problems."
Bored Class: BUUUUUUUUUUURN!!!!!
Kid:"Can I go see the counselor then?"
Laughter.
"Miss J, you and Jacob should have a rap off."
"What me, white girl, with white boy? Yeah, that should be good."
(Jacob) "That's gonna be the name of my first track. White Girl. Top 50. Right up there with Soldier Cookie [his G rated version of Soulja Boy or whatever the hell its called]"
What's hilarious about this? Jacob can actually rap. He's like Weird Al but...weirder. And you know, (brushing off shoulder) , I'm not so bad myself. Precipitation........
End Zone Dance
THEY GOT IT!
My homeroom class-- my class of ham-- they GOT IT! We talked about reflections today in math and it was a GLORIOUS SUCCESS!
Says me: "Okay guys. Question. When you look in the mirror, do you see your butt?"
Says the ham: "NO!!"
Cat in the Hat: "Well, some of you might if you're being buttheads. (Class snickers) ANYWAY. No. Why not? What do you see?"
We played Mirror,Mirror, grabbed partners and reflected movements. We talked about pictures and reflected singular points on both x and y axises (what is the plural form of axis?). We played with manipulatives.
And then I quizzed the little suckers.
AND THEY GOT IT! All but two kids received 100%
HOORAY! SUCCESS! HOORAY!
My homeroom class-- my class of ham-- they GOT IT! We talked about reflections today in math and it was a GLORIOUS SUCCESS!
Says me: "Okay guys. Question. When you look in the mirror, do you see your butt?"
Says the ham: "NO!!"
Cat in the Hat: "Well, some of you might if you're being buttheads. (Class snickers) ANYWAY. No. Why not? What do you see?"
We played Mirror,Mirror, grabbed partners and reflected movements. We talked about pictures and reflected singular points on both x and y axises (what is the plural form of axis?). We played with manipulatives.
And then I quizzed the little suckers.
AND THEY GOT IT! All but two kids received 100%
HOORAY! SUCCESS! HOORAY!
Sunday, January 27, 2008
NEWS NEWS NEWS!
I HAVE CREATED A NEW BLOG!
For any of you who want actual lesson plans, ideas on management, website links etc, I will be updating them all slowly on: http://myteachingadventures2.blogspot.com/ It is the exact same website as this one, but with a little 2 on the end. :) From now on, there will be a link on the right that will send you straight there.
Think of it as the technical side of the mania. Look for updates!
Oh yeah--you will also see a link for my favorite person in the world. http://senoragirasol.blogspot.com/ This is the blog of my best friend and partner in crime. She is a (genius) budding Spanish teacher with a killer sense of humor. If you long to read more about the insanity of teaching, please visit her site! Teachers really do have the best stories, you know. :)
For any of you who want actual lesson plans, ideas on management, website links etc, I will be updating them all slowly on: http://myteachingadventures2.blogspot.com/ It is the exact same website as this one, but with a little 2 on the end. :) From now on, there will be a link on the right that will send you straight there.
Think of it as the technical side of the mania. Look for updates!
Oh yeah--you will also see a link for my favorite person in the world. http://senoragirasol.blogspot.com/ This is the blog of my best friend and partner in crime. She is a (genius) budding Spanish teacher with a killer sense of humor. If you long to read more about the insanity of teaching, please visit her site! Teachers really do have the best stories, you know. :)
Images that will delight the senses!
Ah! At last, I provide what I promised so very long ago: pictures. You will notice that the classroom is quite colorful and neat... with the exception of my corner... which is a total chaotic disaster. The stacks of papers you see are not papers to grade, but papers to file. Every worksheet you see is one I created myself... I now have over 2 boxes of worksheets. AMAZING. And sickening. Every few weeks I have a few students help me sort them all out and, magically, within days, the stacks reappear. I have to come up with a better system. Unfortunately, during the day, I spend so much time mediating, teaching, guiding, ungluing paper from hair, stopping kids from staple-gunning each other, removing knots, and etc. I have no time to do organizational stuff. Sigh.
Anyhow, enjoy. :)
Friday, January 25, 2008
Quote of the Day
Said to new student:
"Miss J picks on everyone. She picks because she cares. Just don't...tick her off."
"Miss J picks on everyone. She picks because she cares. Just don't...tick her off."
Monday, January 14, 2008
I'll stay here, on the bench.
So, to further prove (mostly to myself) that there is something amiss with my homeroom class (and not myself), let me discuss the most current batch of benchmark scores.
If you are not a teacher, let me first explain what a benchmark score is.
It is not, as I'd first thought, the number of times you were benched in gym. If that was the case, I'd be a most glorious 98%. Whee! Go me!
Anyhow. Several times a year, the school district sends us what looks like a rather innocuous standardized test. The kids show up (with no pencils in hand, of course) and take it, grumbling all the way. Several days later, lucky educators all over the district find themselves looking at posted scores online.
Standardized tests? Make me vomitus maximus. Of course, just about any teacher will tell you the same thing. Trust me-- don't get us started. You won't be able to shut us up. To be brief:
What are these tests supposed to do? Well, they tell us a number of things.
1. If our pacing stinks. (I was supposed to cover decimals, fractions, order of operations, algebra, data analysis and measures of central tendency all in 3 MONTHS?!?! My kids can't friggin' MULTIPLY!)
2. If our teaching stinks. (We DID money math! We did 2 and 3D geometry! We did probability! We covered function tables. Why am I seeing 30%s? I must be the worst teacher in this hemisphere!)
3. Where our kids stink (Okay, they stunk at vertex edge graphs... What in the name of hypnogogic carnations is a vertex edge graph?)
As it turns out, my whole homeroom class stinks. No, reeks. Positively radiates with stench.
The bog eternal.
Think, sulfiric vapors spiriting about over a viscous brew of maggot stew. Think elephant dung latte. Think river of curdled milk in NYC's sewer system.
My homeroom class's average: 37 %.
I had kids in the TEENS.
(I'm sorry, but why is it that your score is barely over your age?)
WHAT IS THAT?
There was virtually NO IMPROVEMENT FROM ALL BUT 3 STUDENTS.
And, let me explain again-- I'm not even talking about the monolingual kids, or those with 1st grade reading levels. I can't blame them for not doing well. They're trying to survive. Can't hate on 'em. But... seriously? For the rest of them? What's the excuse? Don't tell me your dog ate your homework AND your brain.
Let's switch to my second class.
Their math scores?
Every student EXCEPT THREE went up drastically. Class scores ranged from the mid 20's to 80s.
12 passed. 4 came close. 8 went up 20% or higher.
My MONOLINGUAL HAD A 42.
Our class average? 58. One question away from passing. That's not bad! Even an old Scrooge can't be too upset by that.
What's amazing-- this is higher than my fantastic kids from last year by 10%.
So, let me ask-- what the hell is going on? I'm doing 10x more manipulatives, hands on, act-it-out, flash cards and explanations with class 1. So... where are my results?
Oh yeah, I remeber. They are with the part of my brain that has somehow gotten lost in all this quagmire. The part of my brain that reminds me that I don't care about these scores.
If things don't shape up soon, I'll be wishing I was back in dreaded gym class. Back in body odor central, back in hell. Staring at my shoelaces, warming the bench.
If you are not a teacher, let me first explain what a benchmark score is.
It is not, as I'd first thought, the number of times you were benched in gym. If that was the case, I'd be a most glorious 98%. Whee! Go me!
Anyhow. Several times a year, the school district sends us what looks like a rather innocuous standardized test. The kids show up (with no pencils in hand, of course) and take it, grumbling all the way. Several days later, lucky educators all over the district find themselves looking at posted scores online.
Standardized tests? Make me vomitus maximus. Of course, just about any teacher will tell you the same thing. Trust me-- don't get us started. You won't be able to shut us up. To be brief:
What are these tests supposed to do? Well, they tell us a number of things.
1. If our pacing stinks. (I was supposed to cover decimals, fractions, order of operations, algebra, data analysis and measures of central tendency all in 3 MONTHS?!?! My kids can't friggin' MULTIPLY!)
2. If our teaching stinks. (We DID money math! We did 2 and 3D geometry! We did probability! We covered function tables. Why am I seeing 30%s? I must be the worst teacher in this hemisphere!)
3. Where our kids stink (Okay, they stunk at vertex edge graphs... What in the name of hypnogogic carnations is a vertex edge graph?)
As it turns out, my whole homeroom class stinks. No, reeks. Positively radiates with stench.
The bog eternal.
Think, sulfiric vapors spiriting about over a viscous brew of maggot stew. Think elephant dung latte. Think river of curdled milk in NYC's sewer system.
My homeroom class's average: 37 %.
I had kids in the TEENS.
(I'm sorry, but why is it that your score is barely over your age?)
WHAT IS THAT?
There was virtually NO IMPROVEMENT FROM ALL BUT 3 STUDENTS.
And, let me explain again-- I'm not even talking about the monolingual kids, or those with 1st grade reading levels. I can't blame them for not doing well. They're trying to survive. Can't hate on 'em. But... seriously? For the rest of them? What's the excuse? Don't tell me your dog ate your homework AND your brain.
Let's switch to my second class.
Their math scores?
Every student EXCEPT THREE went up drastically. Class scores ranged from the mid 20's to 80s.
12 passed. 4 came close. 8 went up 20% or higher.
My MONOLINGUAL HAD A 42.
Our class average? 58. One question away from passing. That's not bad! Even an old Scrooge can't be too upset by that.
What's amazing-- this is higher than my fantastic kids from last year by 10%.
So, let me ask-- what the hell is going on? I'm doing 10x more manipulatives, hands on, act-it-out, flash cards and explanations with class 1. So... where are my results?
Oh yeah, I remeber. They are with the part of my brain that has somehow gotten lost in all this quagmire. The part of my brain that reminds me that I don't care about these scores.
(Only I do. I can't help it. They are a reflection of me, and I am not a person who fails. So why am I failing? Why am I so damn bitter? What am I doing wrong? Shit!!)
Next is geometry, which in my opinion, is the easiest unit of the bunch.If things don't shape up soon, I'll be wishing I was back in dreaded gym class. Back in body odor central, back in hell. Staring at my shoelaces, warming the bench.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)