Feels like Sunday November 11, 2015

I did a fair amount of school work today, while Facebook wondered whether I really cared about or honored our veterans enough to re-post. Sorry, fb. That’s my beeswax.

it is almost like the dreaded Sunday night, except for no mass weekly staff email to mess with my innards. That, and only two more days until a real weekend.

So the good news is, not quite so clinical depression-y as a real Sunday!

Gratitude in your face.

Teaching for College and Career Readiness? Yup! November 15, 2014

 

 

One of the things they tell teachers is that one should not use sarcasm in the classroom.  Anyone who has read a few of my blog posts knows that if I took one of those moronic Facebook quizzes that ask “How sarcastic are you?” I would fall somewhere between “80 and 97 percent sarcastic”. On a good day.  That’s right, I embrace sarcasm as a trusty lifeskill, and I am proud to share that skill with my beloved students.  Without sarcasm, most teachers would be found collapsed in a pool of their own tears by the end of any given day.

Case in point: one teacher was attempting to teach a math lesson on a recent Friday afternoon. She was holding the promise of the weekly prize drawing over the students, in the hopes that this might inspire some shut up reduced volume in the room.  One student in particular was yukking it up as if the expanded form of 768 was as entertaining as an episode of Sponge Bob.  Also, she was repeatedly sticking her ample booty above the desk.  As a holder of an advanced degree, I can categorically assure you that sticking  your ass in the air is not conducive to learning, at least not in math.  Look it up. In my archives.

The aforementioned  excellent teacher made a suggestion to the class: “You can thank Ms. Zippity Doo Dah for the fact that we won’t have time for our prize drawing.”

To this, of course, several students complied, saying, “Thank you, Zippity Doo Dah.” *sigh* Clearly, this teacher had not delivered enough instruction in sarcasm. . .

But then, from out of the clear blue sky, another student, in a raspy and disgusted voice, like that of a 40-year-old smoker, yelled out, “You’re not supposed to say ‘THANK YOU!'”

“You’re supposed to just SIT THERE!”

The teacher swelled with pride.  Until the day got even better. The student continued, confirming that the teaching of the higher understanding of the sarcastic remark had been successful after all.

“. . .and FEEL ASHAMED!”

Teachers really do make a difference, after all.

 

 

 

 

Image: https://scontent-b-fra.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc1/t1.0-9/p552x414/1001966_650113861724104_1868953058799216981_n.jpg

 

First Week Of School–Peachy Prevails! September 6, 2014

Am I exhausted? Yup.

Am I already playing catch up? Yeah.

Did a student ask me if I was going to give them the money to buy their supplies? Yes, indeed.

It’s been a loooooooooooooooong week.  I lost a couple of dear friends to other assignments.  Teachers get tight. It’s hard to lose close friends and supports in a building.

We have added an hour and a half to the school day.  Buses are late. Little children are so tired. Conversation with a sweet little guy waiting for a bus reveals that he is from Tanzania, then Congo.  They left because it was dangerous. “All these people were coming.   There were things falling from the sky.” Wow.

While I am responsible for “digging deep” into targeted instruction aligned to the Common Core, I consider the challenge of making a kid like this feel safe more crucial.

Today, my kid (my actual kid) forgot that he was on the phone with me when he “put me down” for a minute to check out at the grocery store. It was hilarious; I don’t take this shit personally.  He had been telling me about his “budget-making” adventure. Part of this included a long-term goal of giving 10% to charity. My son has surpassed my virtue. I’m so cool with that.

School Year Wrap Up: 2014 Report Card Comments June 23, 2014

Imagine, if you will, that you are a teacher in an urban elementary school.  For the past ten months it has been your duty to systematically improve the outcomes of twenty-some little less-than-nine-year-olds.  Pants have been wet.  Spider monkey howls have been howled. Swaths of duct tape have hovered within centimeters of certain lips. I only alluded once out loud to a possible need to wear Pull-Ups to school due to frequent “I have a true emergency” pleas. If you do not see the miracle in the fact that students and teacher are still standing, you clearly need to watch more episodes of The Simpsons.

And so, the time has come, once again, to fill a space barely larger than that of a triple Tweet, with the critical written message that may be the only communication that a parent reads about their child (I don’t assume that they have read the previous comments).  Also, the dang Cricket phone has long since been disconnected. As I have noted before, the nature of report card comments has been ambushed, like everything else in public education, by the Data Dementors.  We are required to report mostly in numeric code.  What’s left must tread lightly into the realm of the human being child.  You’ll see what I mean. Please note: I use the word “actual” loosely.

 

 

Actual comment:

Skylark has increased her reading level from C to F.  This is still far below the grade level target of M.  Skylark continues to struggle with addition and subtraction within 20, and scored 27% on the most recent math assessment.  Please practice daily with the materials sent home for the summer.  I am hopeful that Skylark will focus on her schoolwork in order to make lots of progress next year!

Fake comment:

Skylark has progressed from level C (Come ON!) to level F (Freaking pay attention and look at the word and not your sparkly press-on nails that get lost on the floor and prevent you from looking at these things called letters!).  Skylark is amused by Kleenex. Skylark won our class award for most consecutive days without turning in homework! Way to go above and beyond, Skylark!

Actual comment:

Bruce Lee has made some progress with math computation, and scored 40 out of 50 points on the end-of-year timed facts quiz. He should be reading at level M at the end of this grade, but struggled to reach K, as he sometimes gives up on tasks, and is tempted to socialize.  I am confident that he will make more positive behavior choices next year. Good luck, Bruce!

Fake comment:

Bruce Lee could be the most successful kid in the class, but he is fully focused on his Thug-In-Training program.  He was the first in the grade to learn to make spit balls!  He believes that his desk is a wheelbarrow, and his seat, a rocking chair. His anger at being asked to complete schoolwork is surpassed only by his commitment to wear all-camo, all day, every day. I was delighted at his progress when he stated that, “I don’t steal markers from you anymore.”

Actual comment:

Tazmania scored 19 out of 50 points on her final math assessment, short of the grade level target of 40.  She also has struggled with understanding what she reads, scoring 35% on her last unit assessment.  Tazmania is frequently distracted and will need to focus on controlling her body as she moves on to the next grade level.  Good luck next year, Taz!

Fake comment:

Tazmania practices Desk Twerking on a daily basis. We are all impressed by her ability to elevate her tush like that, and so often! She finds it difficult to complete assignments, as she is generally at eye level with her desk, which is a treasure trove of all the pencils, rubber bands, and sticky notes missing from the room at any given time.  I am hopeful that her practice at lying pathologically will contribute to lots of improvement in her writing next year! Good luck, Tazmania!

Now, on to the comedy that is summer professional development!

Image:

 

 

 

Dreaming of the First Day of School September 2, 2012

image–nostalgicradio.com

Last night’s anxiety dream involved a parent meeting on the morning of the first day of school.  It wasn’t even about my student, but for some reason, I decided to stay put and sit in with the parent and my principal, since I had stopped by in the  teacher’s classroom earlier to chat.  Best part was, I had deemed it important to bring with me an almost-empty 1.5 liter bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, which sat right in the middle of the table as this parent/teacher/me/wine conference got underway.  At a certain point, I decided that my input really wasn’t necessary, so I quietly excused myself with a graceful bowing out statement: “I’m just gonna leave.”

In the next scene of this nightmare, the principal popped her head in my classroom door, ostensibly to greet the new scholars who occupied my class.  She was not smiling.  Rather than going to meet her at the door, I waved from the other side of the classroom and directed the children to say good morning to Mrs. Beatemdown, in the dream wondering whether I MIGHT get some sort of a talking to about the little wine thing.

Thankfully, this was the point at which I awoke and fell to my knees in gratitude that it was not really happening.

The sad truth is that last night’s dream was neither the first nor last Stressmare that I’ve had or will enjoy as a result of my minefield of a job.  Truly, I am grateful to have a job, and I make every effort to do my best for my students.  Still, it seems that the crazy outweighs the sane with increasing frequency.  This may be why my internal dream time engineer gets so pumped to jump on the bandwagon and out-crazy reality.  Things start to overlap.

Dream or reality?  I am speaking privately to a ten-year-old.  My words: “Sweetie, it’s really not okay to take apart your pencil sharpener to get the blade out.  It’s really dangerous and you can get into a lot of trouble.” Child, smiling: “Yeah, I know.” As in, so, what’s the problem?

Dream or reality? Pair of walkie talkies goes missing one day in the classroom, charging cradles and all.  It is a small, self-contained class of kids with Emotional/Behavioral disorders–angry, violent kids.  We line up in the hall, next to the “cubbies” where they hang their backpacks and such.  Kid’s backpack starts to talk, in unmistakable walkie-talkie language.

I am going to just scoot out to the store to get some Preparation H to shrink the bags under my eyes. Then, let the games begin!

Wheelchair is my middle name June 19, 2012

It’s a trifecta! A turkey! A trilogy! With two schooldays left, I pulled out my third wheelchair incident of the year–this one a legit broken bone, most likely.  I do feel sorry for this kid, as he wasn’t wheeled out due to screwing around and avoiding following rules and such.  He was just playing on the playground.

Followers of this blog know that I am a winner when it comes to having kids taken out in wheelchairs.  But now I hold some kind of record. I might be able to retire on this. To a tar paper shack, probably, but hey, you have to start somewhere.

School Nurse Most Wanted List was actually the first post ever for Peachyteachy.  In it, we met one of my geriatric students who possesses powers of super recovery.  He has since continued to develop his other superpower—the ability to avoid completing schoolwork.  Apparently he is planning to hone his skills in the NBA after earning high school credits for sleeping and chewing gum.

Later, Wheelchair Event #2 came along, starring another of my dedicated young scholars.  The good news is, this young man has not lapped the school swearing at all humans in his path in quite some time!  This is one of the success stories of my school year, in all seriousness. You can keep your comments about the bar and its altitude to yourself.

If I don’t get some kind of medal for this, I figure that’s pretty much it for my career.  They aren’t giving out that many teacher accolades these days.

Actually, I did receive a stellar teacher accolade today, in the form of a sweet little fragrance gift set, along with a hand-written card from a truly wonderful student.  In it, she expressed regret for the “disrespectful things” that students do and  say.  Her appreciation for how much I want them to do the right thing so that they will be happier in the future.  Despite all of my snark, this is true.  For the vast majority of my students,  I will most likely never know whether any of it made a difference, the academics or the life lessons.  The year is ending.  I feel like I have been in a war zone.  We do what we can and we let it go.