To those of you who have been sending things from my Amazon wish list ... Thank you! Unfortunately, they sometimes arrive anonymously so I can't thank you personally. I've never bought something from someone else's wish list, but I sort of assumed there would be a message field that might somehow convey the giver's identity.
So thanks for the markers, transparencies, games (so useful during the unplanned 3 or 5-hour lockdowns!) and books. Bless you all. I will definitely let the class know these are gifts from their newest friends.
(If you want, e-mail me or drop a comment here to let me know who you are!)
[REQUIRED BLOG: EDSE 600 FIRST SEMESTER REFLECTION]
Change was what I wanted (thus the name) and I got it. Pretty much the only aspect of my life I recognize lately is the smell of my shampoo (which I now buy online because no place in the Delta sells it). I wanted a challenge, and I certainly got that, too. But how do my expectations match up to the reality?
I'm not sure at this point I even know what "the reality" is. Using the single article assumes there is, indeed, only one reality. And of course there isn't. When I read over the anticipatory entries, I realize that I had no idea how all-encompassing the experience would be.
It's like drowning every day.
Every day I am completely immersed in the reality of the Delta, the reality of teaching, the reality of what my life (oh, it was so nice just a little while ago) has become. I thought the year without an actual job would be a challenge. It was, and I suppose that by meeting it, and by learning to live with a lot of uncertainty I was preparing myself for the challenge of teaching in the Delta. Surely getting up at 4 a.m. to unload a truck gave me the physical stamina I've needed to get up and teach every day. I had never before appreciated how physically demanding teaching would be.
Professionally, I'm still struggling with whether it was wise to make a move like this, but I do think I'm succeeding as a teacher. What has amazed me most is how quickly I feel like I've been doing it a long time. I remember those days in summer school (remember those lesson plans with every second stage-directed and planned?) thinking I'd never be comfortable and confident in front of a class. How would I remember where I had set things down? How would I know everyone's name? And now, I'm completely at ease. It seems so natural to be there. And I know, it's a cliche, but really love those moments when my students "get it" -- even if it's only a few. In a way, that makes it all the better.
Students have told me, directly and indirectly, that I'm different from other teachers; that I make them work but in a good way that helps them learn. OK, some hate me, but if none did I wouldn't be doing my job.
And once again, I'm drowning in it. Every day. Weeks go by when virtually every conversation I have is about teaching. With one welcome exception, every person I interact with on a regular basis here is a teacher or somehow affiliated with a school. I know, or I hope, that at some point my life will begin to have some balance again. Workin' on that. But it's hard. I'm immersed. I have to force myself to leave school and teaching behind occasionally for a few hours.
Can I extend this metaphor? Can I tell you how the cycle of planning, teaching, adjusting, planning, grading, adjusting is like the waves that simply never let up?
Can I tell you I don't actually know how to swim?
...what more can I say?
[EDSE 600 REQUIRED BLOG]
Am I following the basic plan I outlined during summer training? Yes. Have I been able to avoid giving essay writing as a consequence? Yes. Do I give math as a consequence? You bet. Write those times tables. To 5, to 10, to 12. Do it again. Problem is, it becomes something else for me to keep track of.
Like many others I am stumped for the meaningful intermediate consequence between the warning and the write-up that doesn't end up taking away instructional time. My school doesn't do detention so I don't have that option. I can't enforce an after-school detention of my own (even though I'm there Tuesdays and Thursdays until 5 and there are late buses) because so many of them work or have childcare responsibilities.
My basic plan of rewards is working well. At first they were too cool for the tickets, but now they work hard to get one for using a vocab word during a discussion, or for asking a challenging question, or for working at the bell, or whatnot. A few have made decorative envelopes to keep them in. They love seeing me reach into my little apron as I head down the aisle in their direction.
Competition between classes has worked, too. I don't have much empty wall space that I can reach without a chair, so the class-on-class competition had to be displayed vertically, and in a place where they couldn't get to it during class changes. So the back of the classroom door is the "Race to Space" where there are six Velcro strips (yes, those of you who know me know how much I detest the sound of Velcro, but that should tell you how much I care about this) with cut-out spaceships numbered for the class periods. They move up or down each day depending on the behavior of the whole class. Peer pressure works.
The progress of the other classes is a huge topic of conversation. And I hear them shushh each other by saying "Hush, y'all. We're gonna move down!" Sometime all I have to do to quiet the hum of chatter is walk silently to the door, slooooowly peel the spaceship off (This is where the vile sound of Velcro comes in handy) and move it down a bit.
The first class to the top of the door gets a full class period break. In the meantime, the first class to the level of the doorknob got to teach me to Crank dat Soulja Boy. I will admit I vetted the competition a bit because there are some classes in which I knew it would be unwise to show vulnerability. First period won. My class of 12 unusually mature sophomores.
I am learning that the front row is not always the best place for the clowns who talk too much. They sit sideways and can catch everyone else's eye. When I put them in the back, no one looks at them. They lose their audience. And it's easy enough for me to stand in the back to be near them.
I am learning that sometimes stopping in the middle of the hall and simply watching them will quiet them in the lunch line.
And I've still got the kitten.
My biggest problem? Not engaging. Not getting sucked into their deal. This is a problem for me in general. I tend to be a responder so it's very difficult not to have a retort when they mouth off. I can get sarcastic. (Who me?) And that's wrong. I've lost it and shamed a student. I lose sleep over that. I've confessed it like a 12-stepper,
[REQUIRED MTC BLOG: TWO QUESTIONS]
What is my favorite time of the day, and why? I think I have to say it's setting my room for the next day. I know, I know, you're thinking it's because it's the end of the day and I'm about to go home ... but that's not it. Yes, it's the end of the day, but it's also the beginning of another.
It's the time between. A threshold. Entre chien et loup: Between the wolf and the dog. The French idiom for twilight, when the light is just dim enough that you can't distinguish between a wolf and a dog. It's also used in a more symbolic sense as a threshold between hope and fear, the familiar and the dangerous. And that's kind of where I am in that time.
At first, I would get my room and the boards all set just out of a sense of responsibility, thinking that I should close the loop between that afternoon and the next morning. The old publishing production habit of eliminating all possible variables because something you haven't thought about yet will surely go awry.
But now I find a wonderful sense of peace in that time. I've written before about Camus' essay on the Myth of Sysiphus -- probably one of my favorite pieces of nonfiction writing --- and I think this hour or so in my classroom is when I feel closely tied to its spirit. There's the obvious metaphor: returning each day to repeat what seems like a futile mind-numbingly difficult task. But Camus was interested not in the struggle to get the rock up the mountain, and not in the tragedy of its repeated descent, but in the moment of Sysiphus' turning, his moment of awareness of his fate.
At each of those moments when he leaves the heights and gradually sinks toward the lairs of the gods, he is superior to his fate. He is stronger than his rock.
I feel that strength each day at this time. I feel stronger than, and ready for, anything that will happen in that room.
The other question: Why should someone apply to Mississippi Teacher Corps? I'll tell you why not to apply: You're not sure what you want to do next, and this seems like a good way to kill two years while you decide. You've never been in the South and are curious about it. That's like saying you're curious about mountains so you're going to climb Everest.
I will tell you that you should really want to do this before you get here. You should be passionate about what you want to do here, and at the same time ready to admit that you will probably not be able to accomplish that goal. But you will find a new goal that you've never dreamed of yet. I've done a few more things in my life than most of my colleagues here, and I will still say, as they do, that this is right up there with the most difficult. (Considering that giving birth did not last 2 years with a one-month break next July)
Please visit first if at all possible. See the Delta. (There's room in most of our homes for you.) Read the blogs and talk to us. Invest in a really good 3-hole punch.
Read Sysiphus.
OK. Enough self-indulgent whining. Here's a huge success:
As I've written before, I'd been frustrated with the vocabulary lessons. My MTC mentor gave me some suggestions, and I changed the way I was teaching. Last week's test netted great results, but I felt a bit guilty that I had spoon-fed the definitions and allowed them to use the example sentences they copied from the board on the test. But at least I now have fewer failing my classes, many did come up with creative and thoughtful defining sentences, and the grade averages are well shored up in defense of next week's nine-week's exam (which counts for 35% of their total grade).
One way to get extra credit on last week's "Vocab Challenge" was to use a form of all eight words in their appropriate context in a single, correctly written sentence. I would give up to100 extra-credit points weighted as a quiz grade. Two got it, if I stretched the definition of a correctly written sentence. Probably 20 got partial credit. (I did it: The damage attributed to the hurricane, which exceeded all previous records, was immense, but was mitigated by the robust levees that held back the fluctuating water level until it could recede, allowing the city to once again enjoy its main attribute of beautiful weather.)
But I digress. Here's the great part:
I give them extra credit in all their other classwork and discussions if they use a vocabulary word correctly -- even going back to previous weeks. (Yes, Mr. T,. you don't use very with immense because immense implies very!) At a faculty meeting Wednesday the biology teacher told me that my students are using my vocab words in her class, telling her about them, and even coaching each other on correct usage. This, my friends, is a teacher's dream.
This week''s Vocab Challenge" is to write a paragraph with all the words that incorporates information from another subject area. Up to 50 points available. We'll see.
Meanwhile, some other teachers have asked to be given my list each week so they can try to use the words.
I'm oddly happy right at this moment -- the way Sunday morning is supposed to feel. The ceiling fan on my screen porch is stirring the breeze. It's 67 degrees. (The nights are cool now, and will be right on into the autumn.) I'm grading vocabulary tests with Leonard Cohen blasting in my headphones, a warm apple fritter (from yesterday's trip to Connie's Bakery) and a fresh espresso by my side, and composing a few upcoming blog posts in the back of my mind. (ADD, who, me?) And this is how I like to be. When I take the headphones out, I hear the bells from the church that sits catty-corner to my house.
Last night a nearby owl hoo-hoo'd me to sleep.
But there's always more to the story.
The particular song doesn't really fit my mood at the moment, but it's what was playing when I became aware of how I was feeling ... and perhaps fits the bigger picture.
I know at some point we are assigned a "success story" blog posting, but I just couldn't wait. School started Aug 9 and today, for the first time, FL -- a perpetual discipline problem -- made his first on-topic contribution to the class! He sometimes sleeps, but more often talks and laughs inappropriately. Today, during the vocab portion of the lesson, he raised his hand -- RAISED HIS HAND -- and suggested a defining sentence for fluctuate. Last Wednesday he told me in a hall conference (almost a daily occurrence with him) that he didn't care that he had a 43% in my class and laughed when I sent him to the discipline office for calling my group activity a pile of sh*t.
I've been struggling a bit with the vocab lessons. I know they're important, but the students just don't seem to get it. Probably half of them fail or pass with a 70. I've been giving them 8 words each week, and then they are responsible for the definition and a defining sentence for 5 on the weekly test. (Extra credit available for doing more than 5, and the words are on the board for the test.) I had the tests on Mondays, which was probably a mistake, and also put the words up 2 or so each day during the week, gradually building the list, which was also a mistake. There is so much random absence for one reason or another that they would invariably miss the last day of new words, and be lost. So I changed the test to Fridays, beginning this week, and put all the words for the week up today. I also indicated the part of speech next to each word. This seemed to help last week in getting them to use it correctly. And I used color to distinguish the different parts of speech. Blue verbs, dark orange adjectives, and a green noun.
Now it might be partly because on Thursday I did the binder check as 50% of their mid-term grade, and they discovered that keeping those binders up to date is an easy A, or it might be the new strategies, but FL just dug right in. And DP, a sweet young man who is failing miserably, also perked up. He had a dictionary out and was contributing definitions as we worked our way through the first three on this week's list: exceed, fluctuate, mitigate.
I stress the importance of putting a definition in their own words rather than memorizing the one in the dictionary as being more effective in being able to use the word. So today instead of just telling them the definition and using a few example sentences, I wrote the dictionary definition on the board, and then revised it as we discussed the actual meaning, finally arriving at an understandable definition they could write in their vocab section in their binders. Yes, they had their binders out!
That was 1st period with FL, and somehow the day stayed good, and I actually got through the entire lesson with all of my classes today. My timing and pacing was good. Transitions flowed. I did have to rush a bit at the end of 7th period due to the afternoon announcements and the size of the class, but we got through the Do Now DOL grammar lesson, 3 vocab words, distributed and explained the mid-term progress reports, and began a new essay prompt that allowed me to explain the difference between a "why" and a "how" prompt (Use "because" in your "why" supporting sentences.) and then assigned homework to write the intro paragraph. Whew! We were flying, but judging from the kinds of questions they asked, and the answers they gave me to mine, I think they were with me.
Tomorrow will tell, of course. But I did get two phone calls tonight from students asking for clarification on the homework so I know at least two are doing it. For now, I'll just bask in the joy I felt in telling FL that he had a great day.
Oh, but wait! There's more! KM, who is scary smart and can sleep through class and get 98 on his midterm has been worrying me. I don't want him to slip away. He came in early to homeroom so it was just the two of us. I jokingly said "So, Mr. M., you can sleep through the class and still ace it, huh?" He said that he does that in all his classes. I told him he was probably the smartest student I had and I didn't blame him a bit for sleeping ... I'd probably sleep, too, through some of these lessons aimed at students who are nearly illiterate, but that it made it hard for me to ask the others, like VT or CS, to stay awake when they see him. We laughed a little. I reminded him to pick up his ACT packet in the guidance office so he can go to college. When 5th period rolled around, he stayed sitting up, and volunteered a few answers when others couldn't figure out something. I thanked him for it when I saw him in the hall later in the day and he did that shy shucks kind of thing and moved on.
They listen to me. They care about what I think of them. I might actually (dare I say it?) make a difference in what they do. This was small today, but small grains of sand and all that. I'll take what I can get.
So finding myself without books or access to a copier for the first week of school, I wondered, "Self," I wondered, "How in the world will you teach 10th grade English with no written material to put before them?" Depressing? Oh yes. Add to that the average reading level of 6th grade and ...
Then arrives one day in my mailbox the July/August issue of The Crisis with a cover package on environmental justice. There was a one-page article (so I could pony up for the copying myself at Office Depot) entitled "Black Mayors Take on Environmental Justice." Click the image at the right, keep clicking until you get to the enlarged version if you want to read it. The National Conference of Black Mayors is working with Historically Black Colleges and Universities to rectify the disparity in the number of toxic landfills and other toxic atrocities in Southern, minority, agricultural towns. So, students, do you know any towns like this?
What say? Water in Sharkey and Issequena counties is not potable? Asthma and respiratory problem rate at nearly 75%? Can't see some days for all the crop-dusting chemicals in the air? Let's write letters to the NCBM encouraging them in the work they're doing.
Mississippi State Education Language Arts Frameworks Objective 3.d. : The student will compose persuasive texts for different audiences using facts and opinions.
Introduce yourself: Who are you, where do you live? Tell what you know. (Facts. Where do we find the facts? Yes, in the article!) Tell what you think should happen. (Opinions. Where do we find opinions? Yes! In our own heads!) Conclusion: Thanks and all that.
They really didn't believe I'd actually mail the letters. So I've promised to bring in the FedEx receipt. And I'll include one hell of a cover letter to make sure someone replies to these kids. Their letters astounded me.
They wrote about their uncles who are dying of kidney disease after working 25 years in the cotton gin. About the sick animals who make people sicker when they are eaten. About the pregnant women and sick babies. About the brown and yellow water that "stanks." About their eyes burning.
"We can't drink the water down here it so nasty our water is brown. And all the factory in Rolling Fork and Cary all the chemicals be flying in the air and we have to breath in all that chemical and toxic and the bugs. People die from all that."
"I know you are doing your best to keep Rolling Fork up, but we are falling apart a little here. We are trying to keep the town going, but you need to get some stuff on here. This is my opinion and I hope we'll see you soon."
"Will you come to our part of the delta and help us out? You are well educated and smart so I think you could do the job. We really do need improvement down here."
"There's people here even though toxic companies think we aren't"
Principal
Haynes tasked his teachers with having mottoes for the classroom (to be
repeated in unison at the start and finish of each class period) and I
came up with "Language is Power." Reasons should be clear, given the
population I'm teaching.
I'm so proud of my kids. And I want them to know they can be powerful. I want to give them the language they need to find their power.
During my planning period I called Mr. Mosby, editor of the Deer Creek Pilot, Rolling Fork's 8-page award-winning weekly. He's interested in doing an article about our little activism project.
I'll keep you posted.
... when you become the person who can walk right past the waiting families, and through the door of the CV-ICU -- the door with the huge sign "NO ADMITTANCE. SEE CARDIAC INTENSIVE CARE RECEPTIONIST" -- and you know the buttons to push to open the series of automatic doors and the nurses working in this 8-bed unit greet you by name. And you know your way to room 2.
And suddenly you're even more grown up than last Thursday.
And then for some reason I woke up this morning singing this:
