Pen a Poem about Poverty

The thing about poverty is that is indefinable, untenable, unreachable, and untouchable
But never ineducable, is it?
Poverty is that thing I am said to deal with, though I never see it.
No one says I am poor. No one says I live in poverty.
When in fact, no one really does.
We talk about poverty. But where is poverty?
Have you seen him? Have you met him?

Poverty is bankruptcy. Now that’s poverty.
Poverty is that students are bankrupt.
Bankrupt of critical thinking skills.
Bankrupt of reading comprehension skills.
Bankrupt of basic levels of literacy and numeracy.
There lies poverty. Right there. It runs perpendicular to its
Cruel first cousin, ignorance.

Poverty is in the dearth, the dearth that surrounds the
Earth where I teach. The dearth of intellect.
The dearth of administrative oversight to know
that I teach students, not content.
The dearth of intellectual curiosity.
The dearth of logic, reason, and passion.
And not the passion the students have for each other.
The passion this teacher has for the content.
The dearth of best practices and common sense.
I wrote common sense not Common Core.

Poverty has a conceptual framework
Nowhere to be found in the state frameworks
Poverty is sly, quick-witted, and slow-footed
Poverty is deceptive, expensively clad
Hold up, wait
Maybe not.

The thing about poverty is that is definable, tenable, reachable, and touchable
It is educable, yes?
Poverty is the thing I am said to deal with and I see it daily.
No one says I am poor. No one says I live in poverty.
When in fact, everyone does.
We talk about poverty. Where is poverty?
It is here. It is there. It is without care. We stopped
Saying poverty and got socially conscious

Critical needs are needs that are indefinable, untenable, unreachable, and untouchable
Hold up, wait
Maybe not.

Favorite Student

Describe one of your favorite students. It seems easy enough. If I think about it, I can write and say they are all my favorite students, but honesty appears. In truth, I do have a favorite, and I try not to let it show. I think sometimes it does show. My favorite lamb is fresh out of alternative school, sent there last year for a seemingly innocuous crime. He one day brought a knife to school to show off. Violating a zero-tolerance policy, he was shipped off to Holly Springs for the alternative program. He returned this year, a free man, happy to be back out among his classmates.

Said student comes to school just about every day. After is, it is Mississippi. Who in these parts has perfect attendance? He is in my first period class, the class is unusually quiet not because they fear me, but rather it is first period, and they are still half-awake, half-dead. He sits in the front near the projector, where I placed him. He is of great assistance, which explains why he has such prime real estate. He scrolls down for me, adjusts the display, and tinkers with the cords when need be. Reading is not his strongest subject, but he tries. And trying is what counts. I know I can expect effort from this student.

There are days when he is a little grumpy and will express that he cannot do the assignment because it is tough or difficult or confusing. That is when old Mr. Farmer trudges out the student’s nickname and urges the student to get back on task and work diligently. This grumpiness has lead to a few disciplinary issues for the student. With other students, he is not as attentive or respectful as he should be. Thus, he has taken a couple of trips to the wood shed and had his behavior modified. Indeed, the favorite student has been on the receiving end of some tough love. Being the good kid that he is, he shrugs it off and chalks it up to momentary lapses in judgment (my phrase, not the student’s, though he will agree that is what it is). Work and behavior are improving for him.

Finally, my favorite student is reliable and helpful, always there to help me change my bulletin board or pass out papers or sweep the room. I am pretty grateful for this student. Preconceived notions laid bare, I fully expected this student to be trouble when I met him. Granted, he is small for his age, the stigma attached to a stint in alternative school was ever present.

In sum, my favorite student is a good kid. There most of the time to handle his responsibilities and work, he is average and decent, interested in sports and girls, wanting to go pro and leave his small burg and chase dreams in the big city. I know not what the future holds in store for him, but I hope he does well in all his future endeavors. He is a good kid; he deserves it.

The First Days, Compared

Indeed, there are few differences between my first days of school in either year of Mississippi Teacher Corps (MTC). Both days were uneventful in that I picked up my students, took them to the classroom, and immediately started going over the rules and procedures over and over again. Were it not so uneventful and rather forgettable, I would have a true story to tell.

Of course, it is worth mentioning that the nerves were there. I could teach for twenty years and still be nervous on the first day. Feelings rush forward. And what was once an innocent task appears daunting. Something negligible now looms large and imposing. The first reactions. Will the students see me as a good teacher, one who enforces the rules quickly and fairly without reservation? Will the students trust me enough to take away my presentation of the content? Yes, somewhat instinctively, I make mountains from scattered pebbles. The nerves are what get me. Moving, inching closer toward the classroom, I am overcome by something raw, a mixture of worry and excitement.

Certainly, this year, I have more classrooms and more students. Last year, I was blessed to teach just two sections of sixth-grade students. At present, I have five sections of eighth-grade students. Still, the changes are relatively few. Students are students no matter where I go, whether I have five or fifty.

The very concept of time matters more in this new year. I went into my first day of school knowing I had a full week to teach my rules and procedures. Last year I was not so lucky. I knew I had two days to do everything. Further, the similarity that sticks out is the trip to lunch. In either school the trip to lunch was not immediate. Moreover, in my new site, we make a trek to the cafeteria, literally across the campus. Time was a huge factor for me on the first day of school for both years. Never feeling like I had enough, I knew I had precious little to waste.

In short, my first days at both schools were short and simple. Nothing major or unexpected occurred. I held homeroom for a long while. I had the students fill out student information sheets, reading surveys, and the typical “Getting to Know You” sheets where I ask for banal information that I rarely and never really intend to use or incorporate. For sure, the first days of school were as nice and normal as they should have been. Anything less would have been surprising. I did not write "surprises" on the requisite MTC-style lesson plans.

Open letter to first years

The things that the first years need to know reach out into the infinite. As such, I must pare my list down to a few key words. These key words are explained and given due measure, as they are applicable to not only the classroom but also.

1. Patience. Unless you met your charges in a former life, you are new to them and they are new to you. Your expectations and their expectations will differ dramatically. Accordingly, be prepared for the growing process. You have a full year to learn the likes and dislikes, hopes and fears, tragedies and triumphs, etc. Never rush with anything. That is, you will find that things you think can and should be done in a minute will take three. Concepts you found to be inexplicably simple in high school will test the students’ mental endurance. Patience should be easy to have in Mississippi. Everything moves a little slower.

Another aspect of patience is it is needed when dealing with any school-related technology. Copiers, computers, printers will all stop working in your most desperate hour. Need four emergency copies of your nine weeks test? Yep, it’s broken. Need Internet access for a killer set you spent all night planning? Yep, Internet’s down. Here, in the program, patience is more than a virtue; it’s a survival tool.

2. Creativity. You must have a thousand and one ways of getting your lesson across. Students now are part of the generation where they lose interest quickly. It’s up to you to engage them and keep them engaged. Further, you must simply create stuff. You will surprise yourself when faced with challenges. Far from it to disturb someone when you can make it or do yourself. You’ll learn to make tablecloth using sticky craft paper or sharpen a pencil with a box cutter. Also, find ways to be creative in your discipline. Sick of doling out copy assignments? Have a student stand in the corner. Make him or her clean the classroom. Play late 80s heavy metal during detention. If they happen to like it, play ballads and standards from the 1940s. Use your brain to keep your students on their toes.

3. Silence. Quite possibly, the sweetest sound there is. Not all of your classes need to involve student chatter. There will be days when you and the students need some silent time. On days when they are composing essays or working out problems in mathematics, there are moments that demand a noiseless environment. Too, when dealing with school bickering among co-workers, silence is golden. Your next-door neighbor’s complaining about how another teacher tries to run the hall is your opportunity to remain silent. Staff meetings, dreadful as they are, require silence. Take the time to listen to the nonsense administrators spew. Think to yourself, “Wouldn’t be easier if we….”
But remember it’s an administrator’s job to attempt to fly when walking will more tan suffice.

Patience, creativity, and silence are three keywords guaranteed to get you started off right. Here’s to a grand first year. Go forth.

Trying to be Different

Though summer school teaching for a second year is limited to the month of June, it is not in any way a limit on instructional creativity. One problem area I know that needs more focus is differentiation. I hope to take this month and use it to challenge myself into employing differing instructional strategies and overall presentation of material. More and more, I realize how diverse the learners are after a full year, especially in my grade level.

Gone are the days of straight lecture and instant student mastery. I hope to make my instruction more visual and hands on. I want students to see the product. Trying to combine grand showmanship and Language Arts does take its toll though. How exciting are clauses? I want to bring in manipulatives and graphic aids that put the lesson into students’ hands. Talk of parts of speech does little to generate interest. The plan is to constantly keep the students’ mind going by making them think and visualize

The days still exist where one student picks up the skill near instantly and another must have it retaught before mastery is gained. I plan to use everything I know. Remediation flash cards, foldables and graphics for those students who need practice, and enrichment writing are necessary to gain full understanding. Such is needed for summer school and the classroom. That it took me so long is a little problematic. But I hope to remedy the situation. There must always be at least three different ways to present the material to the learners.

Of note, I want to bring in more color to impart the material. I realize how important color is. Plain notebook paper and copy paper can only do so much in the classroom. Colored paper and construction paper, even in note taking, provide such a visual that it may aid in remembering content. The simple act of making trifolds with colored paper and writing definitions in colored pencils and markers is an act that aids in mastery. Bringing in color more often shows that breaking away from the ordinary is a simple step toward helping students.

In sum, this summer need not be a grand experiment. It does, however, need to be one for delivering information in different ways. Students are nowhere near the same. As such, delivery of content must cater to their learning styles. Creativity need not involve whimsy, either. Just the act of bringing in color and remediation and enrichment can lead to greater successes with material. That’s the plan. Employ differing instructional strategies and make sure there is something for every learner.

Open Letter to the Second Years

I find that, similar to most people, I am much better at hello. The good-byes ring too empty, too hollow. Further, a natural extension of good-bye is the evitable feeling of loss. To be sure, the second years have come full circle. Off to return to the lives they lead before this excursion, some will remain in public education. Others will run away, far away, hoping the students do well and avoid the inevitable crises associated with poverty and lack of quality education.

So every year, the Mississippi Teacher Corps takes a hodgepodge of fresh faces from all over the United States and trains them to be teachers for the underserved youth of the state. Bonds develop, friendships forged, plans written, apartments shared, unions created, etc. Within two years, a lot happens. Without going the road of trite axioms, I suggest the people of the cohort have a more measured effect on your life than the students. Granted, you see the students more. But seemingly you crave the presence of a peer for empathy, for commiseration, for drinks. The hodgepodge becomes something more, something special. Accordingly, the Class of 2009 is not just a name and year assigned to those who entered the program during that term.

The Class of 2009 encapsulates an era. Be it a brief two years or no, it is time and space where twenty-odd people shared common moments in disparate places. Just as one member of the cohort in Holly Springs uttered exasperated sighs, surely another in Jackson slammed a right foot hard into the oft-broken copier in the workroom. Their roles were reversed, I’m sure. While I still struggle with the loss of the group, I feel exceedingly content knowing that they gained a lifetime of experience and stories. Many of the stories and storytellers will enthrall future members of the program. With each passing year, the entering class finds a new generation of students. Conversations years hence will include phrases such as “Really? They were not like that when I was there.” The era is well-nigh over for the Class of 2009.

In sum, good-bye suggests too much finality. I expect none will go to parts unknown. I know many will try to do something, anything to keep making lives in the state of Mississippi better. Within the group, there will be one who takes a leadership role in the corps, one who moves into administration, and quite possibly, one who fixes the problem. The Class of 2009 comes full circle. Those returning for the third year are hooked. A calling is there. We are the better for it. The members not returning will still keep in touch with the students and faculty who impacted them in the most unexpected of ways. As crazy as this post is, it reveals what I could not deny. I am much better at hello. As such, I offer to the second years: Hello to the next chapter of your lives.

The Ugliest Word Known to Kids

Around this time of year, the principal sends out her second e-mail. The first one was sent out in mid-December/early January. Said e-mails ask a simple question: who will be retained for the upcoming school year. Ah, yes, retention. The word that makes the kids buckle down in the last quarter. The word that makes parents query what more can be done. The word that makes teachers question their instructional practices. Retention.

By January, my retention seemed a little long. I had listed too many students as possible candidates for failure. Luckily, many students got on track for the third nine weeks and improved their chances. Even now in April, I fear it—the List—is too long. True, no teacher wants to see any student held back. But then, I counter what of my students made a goal this year to play in class, to never do any homework, to never complete any project, to never pass any test, etc. The realism walks in. The punishment for doing nothing is harsh but fair. The list starts to make sense.

While realism has its place, to be sure, common sense and practicality speak, as well. I know the research suggest nothing positive comes out of holding back a student. Further, it actually serves as encouragement to drop out in the later years. And our administrators strongly urge us to work with all students in danger of failing the grade. We meet with parents, set up tutoring, give more practice and remediation, and suggest the possibility of the child and the parent working together at home to better improve the child’s chances at promotion to a higher grade. I know that should one of my students be held back, I want it known I documented every attempt to save said student from drowning. Still, it will hurt. Then, I think back on what the research says of social promotion.

In short, retention is the short phrase that sends students and parents reeling. Everybody grows well-nigh apoplectic at thought of a student being held back. A string piece combining the main title themes from Sophie’s Choice and Schindler’s List plays hourly on the school’s PA system. At the heart of the matter really is that no one wants any child to fail. Do all you can really means do not let it happen. Work feverishly if possible so that it doesn’t happen. Long regarded as the dirtiest word in the schoolhouse, retention comes in at the last minute of every school year to whisk some child—somebody’s child—into its ever-capacious arms. I simply hope and pray it will not be (too m)any of mine.

Done Differently Next Year

I believe that for any school teacher, especially the novice ones, what to do differently in the next year is a grand thought. I know by midyear, I knew I wanted to better involve parents, change my handling of unruly students, and improve my communication with administrators. Hindsight, of course, allows me to revisit some rookie errors with a fresh pair of eyes and easily identify what wrong and what better to do next time.

I have indeed been lucky enough to have some truly great and supportive parents, many of whom showed genuine interest in the student, the classroom, and the curriculum. Those parents were always available to help out or could easily be reached for a conference. On the other hand, as much as I appreciated the parents who made sure to be visible, I was and am still bothered by those who ignored parent conference requests. Being sent notes that read “I work days” came across as a double-edged sword. Yes, here is a parent who is employed, wanting to take care of his/her family’s financial well-being. But I also figured said parent could not take off day during a ten-month school year to come and pick up a report card. There were, too, the parents with whom I have played phone tag all year long. Our only conversations being those where we leave ten-second messages back and forth. Next year, I hope to have every parent participate in at least part of the classroom setting.

Next comes the topic of the students who set to set out to break every rule, not do any assignments, talk incessantly, and swear up and down that the teacher is picking on them. I took an easy way this year. My disruptive players, as I called them, were removed from my class early on in the year. They were placed in the school’s alternative setting, away from activities and interactions with the other students. While this worked, I contend such moves robbed me of employing many of the strategies I had been taught during the summer training. Next year, I want to see if I can better assess what really goes on with the troublemakers.

Given many opportunities to ask questions and state challenges with administrators, I spent too much time saying all was well and the students, while challenging, were nothing that I couldn’t handle. I do not stray too far away from this, but I rather think I need more help in explaining many of the new objectives sixth graders needed to know. Further, there were occasions when I wanted to shout out loud that many of the policies suggested were foolhardy and best left for use in prisons and sanatoriums. In my endeavors next year, I will be calm and courteous, presenting challenges as minor roadblocks that need creative handling.

In sum, I have three things to focus on for next year. I want all my parents to be active and visible, letting me and the students know the parents are willing to participate. I want to improve relations with disruptive students, quickly preventing their rule breaking. Finally, I hope to work with administrators to iron out small problems before they grow larger and thus, more cumbersome.

Free Write: Super Ideas

Yesterday all the new teachers in the district had a meeting with the superintendent. We were told now that we are nearing the end of the school year, it is time to buckle down, not let up. We were encouraged not to fall into the dreaded trap of easing up on the kids.
And so it goes, we enter the last lap, needing to go at full throttle and ready the kids to pass the Big State Test.

Everyone in the district touts following the lesson line. It is supposedly research based and incredibly sound. But since it was implemented, my school’s test results and scores have been steadily declining. I find myself torn. Of course, I want to follow the rules and adhere to the lesson line. But I know my kids. I have the students who scored lowest on last year’s state test. There are certain things that they do not know or get. I go back constantly to reteach lessons they were supposed to master in third and fourth grade.

Now as we near the fourth nine weeks of the school year. We will go back and reteach everything from the year. New lesson plans must be created. New group work activities must be planned. New tests must be aligned. I will be drowning in paperwork. By now, that is normal. What I am interested in is in finding a way for my kids to just get it. It will not come overnight. The students need to know sound devices and drawing conclusions. But as these things were taught and covered twice already. Nothing stuck. I hate falling back on the same trope I keep hinting at all year. In the fourth nine weeks, my kids still cannot read.

They go to the reading specialist for ninety minutes a day. Their reading has remained level since day one. They still mispronounce the same words. They still say “because” everyone they see “became.” The reading section on the MCT2 may just crush. Do I want to sound so harsh? No. But is it the truth? Yes. In class, I read t them often ad model how reading paragraphs should occur on our projector. All to no avail. Even my students refuse to admit they struggle with reading. I hear they just do not like reading or reading is boring. Even for those who volunteer to read passages stumble and falter over small or grade-level words. A misunderstood word can cost points on the state test. The reading accounts for half of the test.

Going back to the main point, the superintendent inquired of our struggles with the students. I remained mum. Yet I feel hopeless. How the heck does one get students to answer correctly seven questions based on a five-hundred word reading selection? As I monitor the kids come May during the MCT2, my heart will go out to them. They will ask Mr. Farmer to pronounce a word or what does so and so and such and such word means? I cannot say anything. They will circle any answer out of desperation.

In sum, my suggestion should have been that the district gets some great reading teachers in at the primary school. This situation I face is disheartening.

Considering MTC?

For those college seniors looking for something different after graduation or even those who finished college a few years back, MTC might be of interest for numerous reasons.

--If you want to teach and are passionate about teaching. If you find yourself wanting to lead a classroom and shape young minds, you’ll want to join MTC.
-- Indeed, if you want to be challenged by the occasional hopelessness of public education, MTC is the right fit. You will realize that your own upbringing and public education were not as bad as you thought. I know I did. You will find it that the administrators do not always do or know what is best for the students or the district.
--If you can give up your normal life and existence and dedicate them to students who will resist your instruction but come to realize you are there everyday for them, MTC needs you.
--If you want to live in a different part of the country (assuming you are not from the South), MTC beckons. The Delta has been described as a world unto itself, seemingly part of a state, but more self-contained than the tiniest of island nations. Even northern Mississippi offers much to the imagination. In the span of a few highway exits, you can easily traverse suburbs ad hill country in a stretch of ten minutes.
--If you want to give back or be of service, teaching in the corps is perfect. If throughout your life, you have committed to helping others, then a two-year commitment is just what you need.

On the other hand…

--If you need to something to do for two years, avoid MTC. The lives and education of children are not hobbies or projects. Futures are at stake. Stay home.
--If you are still trying to figure it out. That is, you are or have been aimless for a while hence, MTC seems likes a good idea or good fit. You may really want to teach.
--If you only want a free degree, don’t bother. Service is still expected of you. And you still have to teach every day, even in the summer.
--If you want two years of simply taking it easy, do not apply. You will never work so hard in your life. Be prepared to give up sleep, friendships, and sometimes a personal life. Strange though it may be, your students and your job become your everything.
--If you don’t like children, it is obvious. Do not even approach the website. It has children on it.
--If you like suggesting how to do things the right way at inappropriate times, stay put. Your bosses at the school may implement things that are silly or even frightening. It is your job to smile and nod.

It is my firm belief that joining MTC will change lives for the teacher and the students.

The Lives of Others

As a teacher, I see my students but for a few each hours each day. Now after working with them for this long, I start to wonder. What are their lives like once they get home? Are they fed dinner every night? Do they have a quiet place to study? Are they taking care of other siblings? Are they getting enough sleep? Such things should not be in my thoughts as much. But, alas, they will fade away.

I notice that, during early morning tutoring, many students race in, grab a breakfast, and start devouring it. My mind starts racing. Did the child have dinner? When was the last time the child ate? Was it yesterday’s lunch? My day starts filling up with questions. Said students are also those who come in with clothes that are far from clean, that are torn, that are snug, and that are not uniform regulation. What does one say? The students have what they have, and have been wearing it all year long.

I do not feel a complex is setting in. But perhaps there are some anthropological leanings deep within. Many of my students have siblings who attend the school. The same things I see in my students, I recognize in their sisters and brothers. Then, I start imagining home life for my kids. There are questions I want to ask, but I strange such questions strange. Do you need anything? Is everything all right? My fear is that I will be accused of prying or be labbelled insensitive to the plight of my students. What is worse, it may not be not be my business what happens once they leave the schoolhouse.

Occasionally, I have a student who opens up and lets me know s/he had a bad night or didn’t have dinner. I want not to cross a line and venture into savior territory. But then I muse nowadays teachers are counselors, life coaches, tutors, reading specialists, etc. Because so many of the students live in a housing project right down the street from the school, I realize it would be easy to check up on them. I often say no to that idea. Still, a feeling washes over me or a mood passes through me letting me know that all is not right with too many of the students. They hold back, not wanting to say everything, as do I. It is a strange little game we have all become too comfortable playing.

I think too much maybe. I must be over thinking the situation. My students’ lives are not perfect. Nor do I expect them to be. I guess part of me, since I started working at the school, has become interested in the lives of others.

TFA vs. MTC

To answer this multi-part question, one must carefully consider the similarities and differences for both Teach for America (TFA) and Mississippi Teacher Corps (MTC). Luckily, the comparisons are so minute that it is easier for this writer to focus only on the differences. When looking at the advantages and disadvantages for the two teaching programs, MTC stands tall, not so much because it is less work or even less demanding, but that MTC applies the “work smart, not work hard” standard.

To begin, MTC is not as callous to reject anyone with a form letter. Because the applicant pool is smaller than TFA’s, the Corps can personalize its rejections. Also, once a candidate is accepted into MTC, s/he is only discharged according to bylaws set in place well before training begins, rules upon which both parties agree to. While summer training includes a bus ride, it is nowhere near as long as TFA. Summer school is meant to be practical and introduce new teachers to a real-world classroom, and, mostly, it is.

Concerning payment, MTC gives its cohort a summer stipend of $1,000. Compared to what TFA gives, it is akin to having an extra thousand dollars. MTC provides supplies for the summer and works with teachers in obtaining whatever is needed. Another plus for the Corps. On that note, MTC has already placed many of its candidates before summer training begins. TFA cannot suggest that; nor should it pretend to have jobs at the ready.

In noting the differences in the programs, one comparison does rear. Candidates still leave both programs, for reasons that are not always explained, but seemingly can be ascribed to not being what someone thought it was. Certainly, there is a kernel of truth to that. To prevent members form leaving, MTC could provide counseling and have available former members of the Corps who too struggled but ultimately stayed on board.

In sum, one cannot expect that from TFA, as it left the education business long ago. It is now just a business meant to further its name recognition. Perhaps that is why MTC is the better choice. It remains set on alternate route teaching and putting twenty-five qualified teachers into critical-needs districts. More candidates will stay once they see the big picture: the program supports you but cannot read minds. If one struggles, speak. If one needs help, seek. If one really sets out to adhere to either TFA’s or MTC’s mission, teach.

Second-Year Perspective

My initial impressions were, I contend, accurate. At first meeting, they came across as a hard-pressed team of survivors. Few looked a little world weary. Alas, first-year teaching does that for you.

The many with whom I have had the chance to speak with were open and very honest, putting their experiences, both good and bad, into a positive light. They continuous admit their faults and know there is room for growth. As is now clear, I hold them as masters of perseverance, much as I did this summer. No one in the bunch came across as a defeated person bereft of fight.

The second years who had troubles with their administrators and districts, I feel an especial kinship with. They explained to me early on principals and district staff do things that make sense to absolutely no one, save said principals and district staff. There are those days when a memo goes around. One never knows if it is a joke or not. Then there are those days where one does not know if he should laugh or shout. So I combine the two. I go to my empty class and have a shaugh.

Now as the year moves on, I know I have not had as much interaction with the second years as I would have liked. But seeing on them on those Saturday mornings is refreshing. They are there to offer a kind word and, at the very least, willing to ask how one is and how the students fare. To be sure, I do not expect much more than that. Though there is comfort in being a second year, there is little time to shoot the breeze when they have just as much as work as we first years. So the niceties suffice. Pulses are checked; hearts are beating. The school wears one down; the second years know this. But they are pleased to know that the first years are alive, maybe not well, but alive nonetheless.

I hope to answer this post again in May. The second years will have come full circle with a host of information and tips and strategies to impart. I look forward to that. Their faces will show looks of resolve and loss. Not loss in the sense of tragedy. But loss in terms of two years flew by with nary a moment for the second years to stop and catch their collective breath.

In sum, my impressions are the same. A great group of people were presented back in June 2010. Thus far, they are shared great things with the first years. I am sure it was not half as much as the second years would have liked, but I am grateful for the information already given. “Keep in touch” sounds so trite. With the second years, it is said with such professorial urgency, the first years had better heed their requests.

Day in the Life

My life and daily routine has become so repetitive, I feel as though I am on auto-pilot. I make the same moves daily. I say the same things daily. I stop and ask did I say what I wanted to say, or was it yesterday that I said and am now repeating it. Did I say it to one class but not the other?

I wake at various times in the morning, depending on what needs to be accomplished that day. There are days when I wake up as early as 1 am. I leave between 5.50 am and 6.20 am. I need to be at work by 7 am, owing to early morning tutoring with my students. I tutor them from 7 am until 8 am. Planning should be from 8 – 8.55 am. Alas, I seldom have planning. Per the norm, there is always a meeting or some administrivia needing to be accomplished—usually during my planning period.

Moving on, I get my kids (6B) back at 9 am. From 9 until 11, I teach them Reading, Language Arts, and Social Studies. However, as my students’ reading skills are so low, many of them go to Read 180 twice a day. From 10.30 – 11.10, they take tutoring with the reading interventionist. After that, I do something called Tier Time, where I teach other grade-level kids 4th grade reading and language arts, as they need remediation. At 11.30, we switch classes. I then teach my next set of kids (6A). From 11.30 to noon, I teach them Social Studies. When we get back from lunch and restroom break, I teach that reading and language arts until 2.10. At 2.10, we switch to Math Tier Time, where I teach 6A enrichment Math. At 2.40, we switch back to homeroom kids and start dismissal. At 3.05, we prepare for afternoon tutoring. I take my kids to the cafeteria for a snack and bring them back at 3.15 for after school tutoring until 5 pm. At 5 pm, I clock out, return to my room, try to straighten up, and prepare for a new day. I leave the building at 5.30 and reach home at 6.10 pm.

Once home, I eat dinner, put in some grades, grade papers, and go over my five different lesson plans for the next day, hoping to muddle through this year and not fall out and/or walk out due to sheer exhaustion.

Chapter 3 Reflections

More than anything, this chapter on comprehension strategies applies to the English Language Arts classroom and curriculum. More than that, I find that many of these practices have been already been instituted in various guises throughout my short teaching career. Gone are the days when students jumped at the chance to read something new or learn material because it is what the teacher wanted. Material has to mean something, anything to the students in some shape or form.

Activating prior knowledge is something that must be done in practically every lesson, no matter what the content area is. To be sure, the youth can gauge their level of interest and how much they know about the material based on whether they have seen it or read about it previously. It goes without saying, textual meaning demands bring aware of the material. As students go further into the material, they begin to shape feelings and thoughts of what the message means to them. The teacher aids in this process by selecting or providing material that appeals to the students’ interests and needs.

Moving on, I found that the strategies offered were most appealing, as they have been repeatedly throughout Reading and Language Arts/Writing classrooms. Content and process statements occur rapidly and seemingly all the time. Students unconsciously respond in this way. Other examples include visuals of what is expected to be taught and what is expected to be learned. The students have a visual of what they should do and what they should learn. This occurs everyday in content-area classrooms. Through objectives and informal assessments, the teacher can effectively gauge how the students master content.

Finally, text mapping and charts play a huge role in most classrooms. As most students, including my own, are visual learners, visual graphics are the biggest aid in expanding comprehension. These visuals apply to the senses. They are presented in an organized style that let students see the big picture, be it text, formula, or math problems.

In sum, comprehension has to unfold through a multi-layered process. In following the steps suggested in the text, teachers in varying areas can have success. Visual aids are a given in any class; few students retain information just through “teacher talk.” The only concern I struggled were the social dimension strategies. My students are upper elementary. I wonder if they can handle the activities meant to foster student learning. While I can try it, I am wholly unsure of its success in my classroom.

Data Analysis

It must be that my district is in trouble. We collect data on nearly everything. My only complaint is that it is so time-consuming that I contend it gets in the way of quality teaching. We do not just grade tests. We take the data and look at who passed, who failed, who needs intense remediation, etc. I am all for data; I am, however, not for looking for problems and poring over the same numbers every week.

At one point, it has been said our bi-monthly lesson plans will reach thirty pages. It will include lesson plans and data on testing, planning, remediation, reteaching, test preparation and similar ilk. I worked for a large district last year. We had none of the headache and hassle. This district, as small as it is, pours money into everything that is bright, shiny, and new, seemingly to no avail. I would prefer to just work with my students, gauge where they are personally, and not have administrators breathing down my neck. It does not take a genius to tell me my students struggle with reading. nor was it necessary to waste instructional time having every child in the school take reading tests. The teachers know where they are and are familiar with the population. The students openly confess: reading brings them no great pleasure. They dread it in class. The students are aware of the data. They notice the lesson plans are “big.” They are professionals at filling out bubble sheets.

Another note that bothers is the constant need to plan ahead. Now that we are in reteaching mode at the schoolhouse, I must submit data for what I will be teaching on remediation Wednesdays based on last nine weeks’ data. It is all so much to do. I hope to be future-focused on my job. But so much of the future involves looking to the past. Yes, the state test is well-nigh important. We stress about it so much at work, the kids notice and begin to stress about it also. Testing has its place. Data has its place. When it becomes cumbersome to the point the kids complain about it, I worry about it. There was a time when children simply learned. My kids now remind of what to bring to Instructional Strategies. Further, they let me that the faculty meeting starts at 2.55 pm. They keep track for me. Two of my students are office assistants and keep me updated on what new data analysis is needed for the upcoming week(s). In short, the data says it all: I am nearly drowning in data.

Chapter 4 Assessment

As Chapter 4 deals with student assessment in literacy, I found that much of the material was known, though it was good to have support. By now, those who rely only on standardized tests are living in the past. Current educational trends demand that students are only assessed with tools that encompass who the students truly are, inside and outside of the classroom.

One problem I have encountered in my district is the overwhelming reliance on teacher-created, state objective-following tests which do nothing to truly gauge student learning. The section makes vital the argument the most important goal of literacy and content assessment is to improve instruction and self-awareness. The standardized tests, so continuously de rigueur, do nothing to make or show real-world connections to the students’ lives. Thus is the problem. While data is important, the chapter reads. Also important are planning and interpreting. Content-area teachers must match goals and needs with data and other sources.

Kidwatching is time-tested and proven. So much so, I didn’t know it had a name. Even as a young teacher, I encounter it often, as students who are not readers slump in chairs or look around to avoid having to read aloud. I contend kidwatching may not be as potent in the secondary years as it hard to differentiate lack of reading foundation versus one being uninterested and the settling in of ennui.

The only suggestion I take issue with belongs the portfolio. I cannot see it working on the primary level. The output collected would not be sophisticated enough to measure against concrete goals. They would only with the upper grades, students who should know how to create and work with a quality product.

In sum, chapter 4 leaves alternatives for standardized tests. New policies and implementations involve the learner, instead of leaving him as a bystander. The learner is part of the product, occasionally making it. The teacher must give specific information to learners as to how and when their finished work will be graded. As the student plays a true role in his own assessment, the more he will take an active interest in it. Literacy assessment is ever expanding beyond the tests and quizzes and into the real world. Such is not possible without realizing that, while standardized tests have their place in academics, there are more tangible items which produce results that give students a hands-on view of their learning.

Is the Teacher Fair?

Based on the anonymous replies, the answer is a resounding and solid no. The students did not consult one another; and many of the responses were similar. No, I am not an onerous monster. But I do expect my students to follow the rules at all times. The results are as follows:

19 students tallied
16 answered no
3 answered undecided

The pervasive theme was that I give warnings and writing assignments without cause. My rules are simple. They are defined thus: when a student speaks without permission, he is given a verbal warning; when this occurs twice, said student is given a writing assignment.

Next, the students contend I play favorites. This has some truth. I find myself picking the same students to pass out papers. These students though are efficient. They do it quickly and quietly to the point where no instruction is given to them on the process. The students desperate to pass out papers are those who skip entire rows of students, miscount, and chat along the way.

Another point of contention is that Mr. Farmer plays opera. No sensible black man would listen to opera. That I am from Memphis, the students suggest, means I should be hardcore and hate opera. I put it another way: the kids are listening to Mozart and Verdi, something other than the norm, what they are used to.

The students write I speak in Spanish. While I do have a Spanish-speaking student in class, the words are not for him. I speak in Spanish in class so that I may keep my job. In times of frustration (mostly with administrators), I let loose. I now use either French or Italian. But with my luck, one of my lambs summers in Paris every year.

Further, the children argue I am rude because I cut them off. They are sixth graders. They will try to take you bird walking every day. I will not lose instructional time on petty questions. I cut them down quickly, with no qualms about it. My students know they can file complaints in the suggestion box, which is conveniently located in the front of the room below the light switch or behind the door. One finds the box is filled with pencil shavings, tissues, and unwanted scraps of paper.

Finally, the kids say I won’t let them do anything. I rarely believe a student. Students lie. I seldom put faith in the stories they tell. Sixth graders will lie to you just as soon as look at you. One student said she doesn’t lie because she is a Christian. Sadly and regrettably, I could not contain my laughter.

In short, in the mind of a child, not having one’s way is akin to the Teacher (read: aggressor) being unfair. This is school. It is a job. I’ll do mine; the students will do this—or face a consequence.

Early Failure…

I preface this post offering that it is decidedly written in a vein of stram-of-conscoiusness.

Six weeks into the new year and my biggest failure is easily and readily identifiable. I get hopelessly behind on the paperwork and administrivia. Seemingly, since I began working in the district, there are billions of forms and papers that must filled out and turned into different people. Normally, I am pretty good with scheduling and organizing, but this year it is a no-go.

Every day I check my mailbox with fear and trembling. It started with textbook forms. The assistant principal gets those. Next came the inventory and fixed assets. There is more. Teachers were required to complete interest inventories for the children and submit them. Data sheets have to be submitted to the instructional coach.

Because the district is in trouble academically, there are extra forms that always need to be submitted so that the administration covers its hindquarters. These forms show up in various forms and guises and always need to be submitted to different people on different days by certain times. It seems simple enough, right? The commonsense solution would be to make a chart or spreadsheet or find some innocuous Google application to take care it. Alas, we get to the core of the problem. Time management.

I cannot make heads or tails of anything on most days. My grade-level chair calls me up and asks if have a sheet that was due last Tuesday. Problem is four days have passed since that Tuesday. And if I didn’t submit the sheet to the grade-level chair on Tuesday, chances are I haven’t done it yet. I rush home to complete or fill out some sheet only to remember I left it at work in the other folder or that the tools requisite to complete the data I needed to get from another teacher.

I get better. I have a box of manila folders ready to be labelled and categorized. I use different colors and brightly-colored permanent markers to label it all. By filing, I realize the loads and stacks (there are stacks) of paper are more manageable and less intense.

Also, I discover that saying to myself when something is do over and over again is a trend worth keeping. It gets the desired results. I am almost at the point where if things are not always on time, they are returned the very next day, and, even better, sometimes a few hours after they are due.

In sum, the best way to prevent time-consuming paperwork is to get it done as soon as it is given. Putting it to the side so that one can focus more on planning and direct instruction is noble but altogether pointless. Eventually, one loses in the end, as a whole day must be set aside to neglect planning and work exclusively on paperwork. This post is the hope and dream of the man who can’t quite get it together desperately hoping to get it together.

Old Blogs

I’ve Got a Feeling
Aug 19, 2010 2 comments
By now, the feeling has completely settled in. That my time now mostly belongs to the school and the district is readily present. That feeling sinks in, not necessarily in a bad way. But I learn through trial and error the feelings I go on the job with every morning many not be those with which I leave the job.

I am nearly settled in my present position. Still ironing out the kinks, I make mistakes. I am new to the district and the city. That’s expected, and, thus, my feeling that everything goes according to plan leaves me quickly. My classroom is nice, not great, but nice. It could use some touches that make it more inviting. But I’ve a feeling that my supervisors are more interested in student achievement than they are bright, shiny laminated posters.

With settling in comes the reaction to the students. My students, in my mind, are typical sixth graders. On the verge of becoming teenagers, they still want the teacher to hold their hands. Just as well and as soon, they want the freedoms afforded older students but without any actual responsibility that goes along with it. I’ve a feeling I will struggle with that. Treating the students like young adults who still instantly run up and ask for bandages for paper cuts is an interesting angle I learn to explore. I think their reactions were similar to mine. We were both new and trying to figure out who would crack first. The results: I’m standing; they’re sitting, not defeated, but ready to learn.

Finally, I’ve a feeling my management is decent. The classroom could be run better. Transitions should be seamless. Every student should know exactly what comes next. I try to be consistent because now it remains the calm before the storm. The biggest problem is chatting without permission and a couple students who have had some grown-up moments. Writing assignments are dished out with gusto and a tinge of sadness. I’ve a feeling I’ll get over it quickly. If I want a silent classroom, I know I must use the consequences all the time. Management is what it is: a tool I have at my disposal to make it all work. I’ve a feeling it will be my favorite tool.

In short, I’ve got a feeling this will be a decent year, not great, not terrible, but decent. If the students do what they are supposed to do and I follow suit, my time spent in upper elementary may be quite thrilling. That is the hope, the feeling. Time will tell. It’s an adventure, this noble profession. I hope to come out of it changed and alive, in every possible way. I might be wrong about all of this, but, so far, I’ve just got a feeling.
2 comments
Reflections on the Summer Training
Jul 14, 2010 2 comments
As I told my TEAM teacher, the summer went by quickly, very quickly. Maybe it was the dizzying pace that makes it so hard for me to recount all the important things. Perhaps it was the oppressive heat that makes it so difficult for me to differentiate the cant from the minutiae and the minutiae from the substance. It doesn’t matter, really; I’ll still give it a try.

I loved being in the classroom. Education, I said and will say forevermore, is the great equalizer, the leveller. With it, you have a chance; without it, best of luck and warm wishes, dear fellow. That said, summer school was equal parts success, nonsense, and filler. I enjoyed almost all of it, walking away with the feeling I would still do it all once more, the second time for luck.

The successes include the very notion of the cohort's teaching for five weeks. My being in the classroom meant I got to transmit factual content knowledge to the students, my charges. That I enjoyed very much. Having duty at first seemed strange. But I grew into the roles assigned to me: lunch and bathroom monitor. There was a point to all of it, off course. Slow on the uptake, I finally got it: presence. Teacher presence is needed everywhere, not just in front of the classroom. Learning does not occur in only the classroom. Teaching moments, as well as disciplinary moments, linger everywhere, the hallway, the cafeteria, the bathroom, and sometimes just around the riverbend.
Other successes involved the role plays. Helpful though they were, there was too much repetition and time involved. On the spot decision making is a great lesson to be learned. Broken down into parts, the role plays had many faults. But as a whole, they worked, and worked well.

The workshops can be labelled successful for differing reasons. Some were hit and miss. When you are a new teacher in a new state, you must hold all information as vital. That is what I did and hope to use what I learned. Activities that involve the whole cohort are usually successful because they flow based on group dynamics, which is, thus far, positive and coherent. Working with administrators is a no-brainer. Do as you are told, easy enough. Many students will have IEP’s. Accommodate and be proactive. These things needed to be taught, lest we fall back on that old chestnut “Well, I didn’t know.” Success is objective. But having the tools for success readily available and dispersed into 2-hour sessions makes life and teaching in the Corps easier.

The nonsense included the clubs and the harried lunch routine in summer school. The clubs could work at a real school, never in a summer school. Only in Mississippi is a twenty-minute lunch considered acceptable. I remember to work with the system and be flexible. In twenty minutes, that’s all one can do really.

The filler included the moments when we away from summer training but still in summer training. Lesson planning was often independent and trying. Yes, we had the Wiki and Dr. Monroe’s guide sheet. Still, I noticed no two lesson plan formats were the same. Even in jest, the cohort incorporated training into our own extracurricular activities. When someone spoke out of turn, a warning was issued. When the group got rowdy, someone threatened a cohort-wide consequence. We used our teacher voices appropriately. We found ourselves modeling instructions and regaling others with a teacher stance or stare.

In short, summer training was good and bad for all the right reasons. Few expected a seamless operation. That is unrealistic. In the moments when the wheels were asked, we were amenable to change, flexible. When things went right, we learned, just like real teachers, don’t always expect any credit. When things go wrong, we accepted, just like real teachers to shoulder the blame and move on. Summer training by itself, the very words, represents something unexpected. The idea of summer is one of vacations and frolic and relaxation (even if you work all year long, owing to what are considered the lazy days of summer). Training brings to mind rigorous reapplication of what is modelled and practiced. Summer training, for me, was the world into which we entered half-knowing it wouldn’t always go as intended. But when it worked well, and on many occasions it did, summer training blossomed into what it was all along meant to be: exciting and dreadful.
2 comments
Reflections on a Second Year’s Blog
Jul 14, 2010 1 comment
I chose to comment on Conor McDowell’s blog. When I first reached Northgate Apartments on Sunday, May 30, Conor was the first person I saw/met. He had parked—rather well, I might add—in one of the empty spaces in front of Northgate, Building B. Seeing several parking spots open, I decided to take one for myself. Problem: I cannot parallel park to save a child’s life. So, depending on the kindness of strangers, as I often do to varying levels of success, I politely asked Mr. McDowell if he would park my car. He did so willingly; I appreciated the act of kindness. Introductions were made. He welcomed me to the Corps. And off we went on our separate ways.

After reading Conor’s relatively short posts, I concluded he enjoys the program and teaching, though one would be hard-pressed to get Conor to readily admit such. To begin, Conor started out with much hesitation, in the way he planned lessons, taught lessons, and handled discipline. Hindsight plays a huge role when he revisits his errors. I believe that when he was given multiple chances to remedy his ills, he still felt unsure and unready in his role as a teacher.

Classroom management boiled down to inconsistency. For lack of a better word, inconsistency often means slipshod management or acquiescence to continuing misbehavior. Either way, Conor is amazing at pinpointing his faulty spots. Eliminating or mitigating them is where the trouble is.

There were bright spots in Conor’s blog. His thoughts on the Ruby Payne book were unfailingly honest and refreshing. The connections he made for poverty and discipline can be taken at face value. In this region, it is seemingly manifest that kids take the easy way out, even in punishment. That he is willing to incorporate what he learned into his future classes shows improvement and growth.

Like the rest of us, Conor had mixed feelings about videotaped lessons and summer school’s effectiveness. He made clear he found problems in the programs. But he went further and struck a balance. For every negative, there was a positive. He incorporated what the Corps stresses. Few can deny Conor is receptive, save for his own ideas and suggestions, which, for better or worse, are hopeful yet imbued with an overarching reluctance.

Finally, in what may have been his best posts, Conor gives reasons to join and not to join the Corps. One can tell Conor easily played out these scenarios in his head, for they are well thought out. His views on administrative bumbling sound too real, and his thoughts that kids may slight you in every way imaginable are all too true. Yet you still love the kids and somehow hope the bosses get it right and right can’t get here fast enough.

Conor McDowell is a thoughtful novice in his posts. Conor is a Northerner finding his way in the South, which is an impressive feat, to be sure. He has stumbled, he has faltered, and he has failed. He is never bitter about the experience. He wants only to get better and make an impact. That is commendable and telling. It can be said of Conor that though his posts were brief, he revealed more by genuinely reflecting on his experience, warts and all.
1 comment
Reactions to the Second Recorded Lesson
Jul 10, 2010 1 comment
Perhaps it was the pacing, the clarity, or even the impact of the lesson that made my second recorded something to treasure. It was my fifth and final formal reservation. I was, of course, under due stress to perform well and perhaps score my highest tally yet. All things considered, my lesson on July 6, 2010 went off wondrously, and I am the better for it. Who knew a lesson on tools of persuasion, specifically logical fallacies, could meld into, what was called by my TEAM teacher, my best lesson thus far?

It goes without saying the lesson had been carefully prepared with a calculus of dynamics planned. I had to get it right. I was recording myself. The lecture had to miss nothing, cover all, and have humor. Indeed, parts of the lesson were decidedly superficial (we had much to cover), but I succeeded. And I am well-nigh pleased.

To begin, my lesson was near fragmented. Accordingly, a lesson on logical fallacies demands such; I wanted to move from hodgepodge to seamless transitions. The students caught on and performed well with it. The beginning of class was hushed as the students worked on the bellringer. The set was delivered in my “relate to the students” voice. It worked! The lesson’s objective was adhered to as though my life depended on it.

Teacher talk was not a problem. (True, I still loathe the sound of my voice.) My time management skills had been getting better with every lesson. I followed the clock with unfailing obsession. That paid off. As I got into the different logical fallacies, the students recited the names they had learned for fallacies. I was stumped; and I told them so. I had never heard of the “plain folks” fallacy.

In university, the philosophy professor had used the traditional Latin. I knew ad hominem tu quoque, but plain folks didn’t ring a bell. Nor did it reside somewhere in my memory from my middle and secondary years. I did what I think helped to endear me to the students: I admitted I didn’t know something. The class went totally silent for a quick second, and we all recovered from the revelation.

I lectured and had a student pass out the worksheet. The guided practice was solid. They caught on quickly! Independent practice was silent and independent (for the most part). I still issued consequences. An aside, for every consequence, I gave praise. Striking a balance has been tough. But I have become better at it. Informal assessment saw my touching the four walls, checking on nearly every student. My closure was a review and summary that worked as well as the set. Finally, I dismissed by my quietest rows.

In sum, I am most pleased with the lesson. My teacher presence was and is there. While the lesson was not monumental or life changing, I felt like a teacher with a goal. I needed to do what I had not already done: have mastery (and not only for the students) within a fifty-minute block. I needed to do more than what was required. This recorded session, I contend, makes up for what my first recorded lesson was not. Attempts at teaching have morphed into truly convincing teaching. I am the better for it.

Second recorded lesson grade: A
Evaluation score: 77 (out of 77)

1 comment
Reactions to a Recorded Lesson
Jul 3, 2010 Post a comment
Those who know me well know I can tolerate any mistake--except my own. So watching a recorded version my teaching lends itself to problems too manifest to be enumerated and too large to be dissected. Off I go. I first recorded myself teach on Thursday, June 18, 2010. My lesson covered peer revision and was recorded during Week 2 of summer school. In this blog, if I seem too stream of consciousness, do forgive me. I want this post to reflect all the thoughts going through my mind as I re-watched myself teach.

To begin, I thought the overall lesson was solid. The students participated when required, worked silently when directed, and wrote effectively when asked. Nonetheless, I have minor quibbles.

My set was far too long. My instructions at the beginning of the independent practice were hesitant and tentative. My attempts at humor were hit and miss. But the lesson was solid. I had the students write about their favorite movies. They had to write the way they would normally write an essay. Then, they exchanged papers and revised.

Relatively few students were off task. And those who were did not know how to start. The session shows me urging students to begin. That I did well, with confidence and authority. Another idea that came forth was to incorporate plot points of the film Friday. What a great idea! The lesson soared to new heights. It was quiet and controlled, but engaging rather, a model of success for me. Not all days were like this. My team leader can attest to that. But this lesson was solid!

Moving on from content, I moved around enough. I am rather rotund, so it took some maneuvering, but I managed to patrol the rows, making sure the students were working. The beginning of class was a little chatty, but the students settled into a reluctant hush mode. That was good! I talked too much. Too much teacher talk will be my undoing. I worked well with students during the actual independent practice. Many just wanted to spell a word or recall who was in the picture. Still, I like to think I offered some assistance. My repetition was not as bad. I have been told I repeat myself to the point of being comical. That did not happen this time. For that I am grateful!

Finally, the recorded lesson showed that my voice does some crazy things. At different parts of the lesson, I come across as confident. When my instructions are shaky, so is my voice. When my closure is decent, so is my voice. I realize I must take a very sharp intake of breath to avoid the dreaded sibilant “s” I am prone to lapse into when speaking very slowly. At my more comfortable rapid speech, all consonants and vowels are given their due. On tape, it appears that some words just drag on and on. Obviously, I hate the sound of my voice, recorded or not.

In sum, nerves didn’t really get the best of me. I had an easy lesson, a great topic for the students to write, and a halfway decent close. Far from my worst lesson, the recorded Mr. Farmer can improve and hopes to daily. Overall, I learned to just breathe, relax, and speak slowly when giving directions. We are all the better for it.

Recorded lesson grade: B-
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Reactions to Reluctant Disciplinarian
Jun 26, 2010 1 comment
After reading the short book, I first noticed many of the scenarios described in the book were topics of discussion in our classroom and are things I have done and seen thus far in summer school teaching. It certainly helps to have reinforcements. Author Gary Rubinstein is at his strongest when enumerates and categorizes the dos and don’ts of teaching.

To be sure, Rubinstein, like many before and after him, becomes a teacher hoping to effect change in young people’s lives and maybe stumble into a career. Of course, he is overparted by the actual events in the classroom. Just as we are told not to yell, argue, and outsource, we read about someone who makes all the rookie mistakes.

Particularly noteworthy are the sections where Rubinstein lists the characteristics of real teachers. We are taught that these teachers are not necessarily real teachers; they are effective teachers. They are those who have plans and answers at the ready. Rubinstein rightly admits his first-year mistakes are not terrible, but they are expected. No matter how many books are read or professional developments are attended, the only teacher training is on-the-job training.

Through teaching, Rubinstein learns to have rules and procedures. He learns to affix himself to a veteran teacher. He learns to develop a style, one that is honest and not in the mold of the saintly educator here to rescue the innocents. I find that the book is short and refreshing. For a novice teacher, the book can be referred to many times. Rubinstein has clearly laid out what works and what doesn’t. Further, I have heard so many veteran teachers echo Rubinstein’s points; I am nearly convinced that something must be right. As successful teachers do and say (model), it is more than wise for the rookies to listen and follow (not blindly, but accordingly).

In sum, I hope to implement many of the strategies set forth by Rubinstein. His suggestions appear on many classroom management techniques. The students, as Rubinstein often funnily points out, really want a teacher who takes charge, takes the lead, and takes no prisoners. Learning occurs in a classroom where there is structure and procedure. The reluctant disciplinarian yells, screams, hoots, and hollers. He goes home exhausted. Brimming with energy, the students go home. The dedicated disciplinarian plans, structures, teaches, and manages. Bursting with knowledge, the students go home. It is my hope and prayer to fall into the latter category.
1 comment
Freewrite Assignment
Jun 23, 2010 2 comments
Obviously, I am different. I speak differently. I look different. I behave differently. All of this must be true. When I stand in front of the classroom, these thoughts and others race through my head.

My kids are huge rap and hip-hop fans, as are most young adults my age. Thus far, I have heard talk of T.I., Lil’ Wayne, Boosie, and Yo Gotti. This is the first difference. I don’t care for any of these people. It would make my day if a student said his or her favorite singer was Joan Sutherland. But I’m learning to acclimate. What I consider to be nonsensical noise, the kids gobble up.

My kids watch (too much) television. I am not much a fan. As a result, I have no idea what they are talking about when making references to specific shows. This is another difference. I imagine many shows are risque and not suited for young adults. But I’m learning to acclimate.

My kids love movies. I am a fan of the really good ones. We were doing an in-class activity where we listed and described our favorite movies. Not surprisingly, my favorite is Lawrence of Arabia. My kids are in the Rush Hour, Friday, and Transformers group. But I’m learning to acclimate.

Differences are not a bad thing, not at all. We are all different. Without going after-school special, I hope that it is my differences that help me. The students are probably used to new people coming to the schools to teach. And while many of the teachers in the cohort hail from all over, California, Texas, and New York to name a few, it might be strange for my kids to know I grew up only thirty-five miles away. I want to my perceived differences to act as building blocks. I will learn more from the students.

So far, I do not rant. What I have done is set my priorities. I need to learn and discover what holds my students’ interests. Surely, most, if not all, of it can be tied to a quality lesson. I want my differences to become strengths. Now I try to catch snippets of the students’ conversations, not for spying, but for those water-cooler moments when they discuss the show, the movie, and/or the song that has caught their collective attention. It can be never be a bad thing to use lyrics and dialogue to demonstrate that reading and writing are incredibly exciting and altogether worthwhile.
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First Weeks of Summer School
Jun 23, 2010 Post a comment
Of course, I had many hopes of how I wanted to start the summer school training. And true to form, I started out halfway decently. I use the term “halfway” not to indicate that I gave halfway effort, but to allow for the actual results, which directly from my own uncertainties and failings. I can tolerate anybody’s mistakes, except my own. Some teacher I will be, right? From a good start to a rocky middle plagued with doubt and mild self-loathing, I am confident I can make it.

Once I finally started teaching, all was well. I was enforcing the rules and consequences with gusto. I began to establish a rapport or some norm, one where the students could expect consistency. I wanted to convey knowledge throughout. The students were to know I had content knowledge. Further, I was to know they had knowledge of acceptable and appropriate behavior. All was well.

But now there is a disconnect. In a little over a week, I feel as though I am losing them, one by one, slowly but surely. And once something is gone, anything really, it is hard to get back. I take full responsibility, to be sure. So now I must enter the classroom, ever ready to match behavior. (In the classroom, per our training, there is no misbehavior; there is only behavior, and it all must be managed well.) The key, according to my team leader and second years, is constant reinforcing of rules. The disconnect is my falling into the dreaded chestnut “They should just know how to behave.”

Nor is that unexpected. I chose the program for a reason. I love academic/intellectual rigor. Teaching these students requires a different rigor. I must tap into something grand and long-lasting to get and keep them. Management sounds like a strange word in education. I know, without equivocations, management comes with time. In this program, one’s placement is directly tied into regions where students do not have time. The regions need teachers with the minds and skills to manage then teach, and not vice versa. It is unexpected that I did not know this from day one. To survive in the program, management comes first. That is the real rigor.

Moving on, I can share some decent news. I know all the students’ names. I know less teacher talk is a good thing. I know the students should be working at all times, as it leaves less time for behavior. I know I have the remainder of the summer session to get it right.

In short, I still have high hopes for how I want the summer to go. I hate using cliched sayings like “step my game up” and “bring in the big guns.” So I resort to the tried and formula for management and hope to have it with me: be firm, be fair, and be consistent.
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The Cup or Questioning Techniques
Jun 19, 2010 Post a comment
This past Monday, I, as well as my cohort, have been using a questioning technique, with predictably interesting results.

As it happens, my first lesson and first formal evaluation coincided. Before the beginning of the class, I wrote the students’ names on popsicle sticks and placed said sticks in a Styrofoam cup. The cup was placed on a desk in the corner near the front of the classroom. During my lectures and discussions, I find myself asking questions. Sure, I use the waiting method. But who wants blanket silence? Don’t get me wrong; I love a silent classroom. Thirty seconds of silence after an easy question can be a number of things, saddening, maddening, disheartening, and the like.

When students give no response after a lengthy wait time, I have since gone to The Cup, as they are wont to call it. There is one student in particular, a girl, who loathes The Cup. She is not afraid to admit it her dislike of The Cup. She exclaims after I pose a question and start walking toward The Cup, “Raise y’all hands; he’s going to The Cup. I hate that.” Our little bully has forced a dozen kids into raising their hands. Whether they want to answer questions is of no consequence to her. In addition, the girl has convinced herself that, by raising her hand for every question, she will not be called. Poor dear. The concern I have is that students who raise their hands do so only because they fear my pulling sticks.

It doesn’t work that way. I still use The Cup. I still cold call. It makes the students listen and stay alert. Further, it helps me learn names. I pull a stick, show it to the class, and automatically, all heads turn to the student whose name appears. I do worry about overuse of The Cup. If I go to it all the time, I could lose them.

Throughout the week, I quickly learned to modify its use. Resorting to The Cup only when I feel or see lackluster participation, I usually have decent participation. My lessons are usually things the students have covered and can easily grasp. So now, my worries are limited. And of course, when my students shirk from being Volunteers (raising their hands of their own accord), they become Victims (their names are drawn and they are forced to answer).

Indeed, I will use The Cup in my own classroom. It will be under a sign that reads “The Cup.”
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Initial Reaction to Delta Autumn
Jun 13, 2010 Post a comment
Mississippi Teacher Corps. Delta Autumn: A guide for First-Year Teachers in the Mississippi Delta (Oxford, 2001). 176 pp.


A book with an important role in Mississippi Teacher Corps (MTC) history, Delta Autumn is at once a primer for novice teachers in the Delta and an economic, social, and political history surrounding storied movement in state education. The main goal of the book is fulfilled in two ways. Chief among those is how relevant and connected the history of statewide education is to surviving the first year teaching. To be sure, the initial development of statewide education gives pause—for good reason—but the end result is a more equitable framework that serves to ensure academic success for Mississippi’s poorest students.

The history of education cannot be divorced from race. The motivating factor in every political and legal decision involving education, race is the issue at the core of education in the Delta. For those living in the Delta, Blacks seemingly never got anywhere or anything from their state-issued education during any part of the twentieth century. Segregation, populist rhetoric, and racism prevented any progress for Blacks academically. Sadly, even now, the area falls victim to inadequate standards. Lengthy court battles, murders, riots, and school closures aided none and did little to ensure quality education in the Delta. Even more, that it took until the early 80s for educational parity to come to fore is harrowing and another blight on Mississippi’s record. Thus, the history of education is one of relative paucity in the sate. Nearly nonexistent though it was, said history is improving, though race continually looms in the background.

Moving on, the second way Delta Autumn fulfills its goal pervades the bulk of the book. The book proves most helpful when it offers tips and advice to new teachers. Organized with clarity, the book covers nearly everything the Delta teacher needs and wants. Initial reading indicates that teachers are forced to choose which battles they will fight, concerning problem students, apathetic parents, indifferent communities and the like.

As a teacher who taught in the past, I found the special education section most helpful. My English III/IV classroom was inclusion. Many of my students had IEPs, and I was made to accommodate accordingly. I modified lesson plans, gave extra time, read test questions, etc. It got to a point where I made the same modifications for everyone as to cut down on lesson planning and additional grading. Sad though it may be, I knew some of the students should not have been on the SPED rosters. Of course, there were students whom I recommended for placement on the same rosters. Special education will appear and reappear in my line of work. As confusing as it is, I want to do what I can to include all students, without purposely excluding others.

That reading levels are not commensurate with grade levels is flat-out frightening. I too encountered this last school year with the students. Students made to read Emerson and Dickinson were out of the loop when words and sentences do not form into recognizable wholes. I struggled in vain to make connections to modern life. I admit I failed in that respect. I think I taught it the way I learned it. While I thought my methods were reasonable, the students engaged in word calling and retained nothing. Reading and writing have to be drilled and assessed on a near constant basis to ensure success in the classroom.

Finally, the actual teaching of English will be the biggest challenge. As many of my students do not speak what is considered Standard American English, I must prepare and drill for that too. Pronunciation, enunciation, and articulation must become part of the lesson. I want my students to compete outside of their hometowns. Words, both spoken and written, have to be their weapon of choice. The book offers great tips on resolving some issues, but other issues will come to fore invariably. How shall I deal with that? Teaching English forces me to come up with some strategies not always used. But the book mentions them: tricks! To teach English is to know the students are behind what is considered normal. The book teaches that it is not so much a challenge as it is an opportunity.

In sum, Delta Autumn is a read divvied up. Educational history, methodology, and subject-area guide it purports to be, Delta Autumn is more. The book was presented at the right moment, the beginning of the journey. I am sure members of the cohort will find themselves adding to it, either through penciled emendations of personal copies or serving as contributors on new printings. I walk away feeling I have learned what I needed. Had I possessed the book last year, I might have been a halfway-decent instructor. My pratfalls were too great and the learning of what works and what does not came too late. I can start the new school year off right, with a copy of Delta Autumn in the top left drawer of my desk in the classroom.