Today, I have spent the whole day working on my TPE reflections. I am close to being done with 8, and working on 9. I am hoping to be done with this drivel by tomorrow evening.
I have a student who is constantly hanging around me when I am in my classroom during my free period. She is a wonderful kid. She is really into anime and poetry, and what was really interesting was that she liked my three day solo so much last semester that she and her friend signed up for my class this semester. Anyway, she always comes in with a treat or just to talk or just to do homework while I prep.
Last week after the VTECH shootings, I told the kids to just be happy and live life to the fullest because you can't predict what is going to happen. I even said, "I can't promise you that a mango won't fly through that window right now, so have fun, don't worry, study har, sometimes we are not in control of the craziness around us, and be glad it's a nice day."
The student then came to me and asked me if I had heard of a band called the Guillemots and I said no. She said that there is a song she would like to bring me the next day. I told her that would be swell, as long is it's not a song with profanity. Anyway, the next day she brought this beautiful drawing and the lyrics of the song. Then she said that something I said in class reminded her of the song. I was so moved! This is why I love this job, these serendipitous moments when kids try to connect to the teacher. I don't even remember what I said, but I guess it made an impression. I just remember the mango thing because the kids laughed. What a deep kid.
Anyway, I went home and that night, I went on itunes and there it was. It was already on my ipod and I didn't know it because it was one of those "free songs" once. Well, I listened to the song. I guess it must be the line about being thankful for facing the day and that you don't know when these things can happen to you. Quite interesting actually, and I actually like the song. What a great kid.
I guess that day is here, because my husband had to go to the doctor and has a strange growth on his throat. They don't know what it is, that it may be a thyroid issue and have to run some tests. There is the mango. I'm just looking forward to the end of this program. I'm finishing these TPEs because I don't know what will happen tomorrow. I think i'll start smoking.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Three cheers for nerds.
I think the most "at risk" kids are nerds, specifically adolescent female nerds. I know, because I was one, and I have made it my personal goal to address the needs of these girls. No one ever pays any attention to them because they're generally well behaved, nice, smart, quiet, and don't pose a problem in the classroom. Ask any teacher - they spend the most time with the downtrodden or obnoxious boys who are generally going to choose to be downtrodden in the future.
Girls, smart ones, usually are at risk for the following:
A) dumbing down because they are insecure over the fact that they are smart
B) dumbing down especially in front of some stupid, ridiculous teenage boy that they have a crush on. And generally, that boy is not as smart as they are.
C) being ignored, being the nameless, the anonymous, the kid you never remember
D) being insecure about the fact that they like nerdy things and don't have tattoos or t-shirts that blurt out what they like
E) thinking that they are different (in a bad way)
F) changing the way they are (like Frank Zappa said, Dope=you are what you use.
So, I have made a point to show off how nerdy I am by telling my students the following:
A) I used to belong to a pen club (I even brought my pen collection)
B) I used to read a thesaurus, highlighting the terms I thought I may need one day
C) as a teenager, I used to bake and dreamt of being a baker, calling my company "Hye Pies" (Hye=Armenian (in armenian) I still make a kick-ass apple plum tart and plan on bringing some for my students.
D) my mom had to ask my prom date's mother (at 22nd and Irving Market) if he would go to the prom with me. I begged not to go, and then my best friend Mia and I ended up sitting at the prom and watching our prom dates dance with other girls. This discussion came about when some kids were 'bummed out" that they didn't receive valentine cards and weren't going to THE DANCE. I told them "when life has you chewing on life's gristle, just put your lips together, and give a whistle!" My best friend is now an attorney in SF.
E) At summer camp, I used to take a tool called "a do it yourself star finder" and would gather my armenian "nerd" friends at AYF Camp in the angeles forest mountains and created a star club at night. My dad made the star finder for me as he is an engineer and felt sorry for me that I was not so good at math. Perhaps studying constellations would help.
F) My best friend's father invented gatorade and we used to hang out at summer studies listening to leonard cohen sitting at emily diskinson's grave at parties in Amherst.
It felt so cathartic to tell my students this!!! Two of the students now come to my classroom to hang out during their free mod. Also, as the mom of two daughters, I am probably bringing up two more nerdy girls (my four year old just told me that she put her doll in a very inconspicuous place.)
I read an article on cnn.com that there is a movement to work with these girls. So, my way of working with these girls is to give them the attention they deserve (while not ignoring the needs of others) and make sure that they understand how much power they have. Even if they stay home on fridays watching TV while other kids are out, they will be a-ok and often, much better off than their peers. I am sick of giving so much attention to the kids who don't deserve it.
Girls, smart ones, usually are at risk for the following:
A) dumbing down because they are insecure over the fact that they are smart
B) dumbing down especially in front of some stupid, ridiculous teenage boy that they have a crush on. And generally, that boy is not as smart as they are.
C) being ignored, being the nameless, the anonymous, the kid you never remember
D) being insecure about the fact that they like nerdy things and don't have tattoos or t-shirts that blurt out what they like
E) thinking that they are different (in a bad way)
F) changing the way they are (like Frank Zappa said, Dope=you are what you use.
So, I have made a point to show off how nerdy I am by telling my students the following:
A) I used to belong to a pen club (I even brought my pen collection)
B) I used to read a thesaurus, highlighting the terms I thought I may need one day
C) as a teenager, I used to bake and dreamt of being a baker, calling my company "Hye Pies" (Hye=Armenian (in armenian) I still make a kick-ass apple plum tart and plan on bringing some for my students.
D) my mom had to ask my prom date's mother (at 22nd and Irving Market) if he would go to the prom with me. I begged not to go, and then my best friend Mia and I ended up sitting at the prom and watching our prom dates dance with other girls. This discussion came about when some kids were 'bummed out" that they didn't receive valentine cards and weren't going to THE DANCE. I told them "when life has you chewing on life's gristle, just put your lips together, and give a whistle!" My best friend is now an attorney in SF.
E) At summer camp, I used to take a tool called "a do it yourself star finder" and would gather my armenian "nerd" friends at AYF Camp in the angeles forest mountains and created a star club at night. My dad made the star finder for me as he is an engineer and felt sorry for me that I was not so good at math. Perhaps studying constellations would help.
F) My best friend's father invented gatorade and we used to hang out at summer studies listening to leonard cohen sitting at emily diskinson's grave at parties in Amherst.
It felt so cathartic to tell my students this!!! Two of the students now come to my classroom to hang out during their free mod. Also, as the mom of two daughters, I am probably bringing up two more nerdy girls (my four year old just told me that she put her doll in a very inconspicuous place.)
I read an article on cnn.com that there is a movement to work with these girls. So, my way of working with these girls is to give them the attention they deserve (while not ignoring the needs of others) and make sure that they understand how much power they have. Even if they stay home on fridays watching TV while other kids are out, they will be a-ok and often, much better off than their peers. I am sick of giving so much attention to the kids who don't deserve it.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
April 24, 1915 = two poems by Siamanto
From Carolyn Forche's "Against Forgetting: 20th Century Poetry of Witness"
This poem is by Siamanto, one of the poets executed on April 24, 1915 after witnessing the beginnings of what would be the first genocide of the 20th Century. My grandparents escaped these exact purges, my paternal grandfather becoming a warrior (guerrilla) and my grandmother becoming a nurse for the American missionaries in Mesopotamia. It is one of the first witness poems of the 20th century.
Siamanto(Adom Yarjanian)- 1878-1915
The Dance
Her blue eyes, drowned in tears,
the German witness to the horrors tried
to describe the ashfields where the Armenian life had died:
"This untellable thing I'm trying to say
I saw with my pitiless human eyes
from the hellish window of my safe house.
While I gnashed my teeth in terror and frustration
my eyes stayed open and pitiless.
I saw a garden city change into ash heaps.
Corpses piled to the tops of trees.
And from the waters, from the springs,
from the brooks and from the roads,
the roar of your blood.
It is the voice of that blood that still speaks
in my heart. Don't be disgusted,
but I have to tell this story
so that people understand the crimes
men do to men. Let all the hearts of the world hear.
That morning with death's shadows was a Sunday,
the first useless Sunday to rise over those bodies.
I had been in my room all night, tending,
from evening until morning, a girl I knew
stabbed by knives. I bent over her agony
wetting her death with my tears.
Suddenly I heard from a distance
a black mob of men, whipping, leading twenty girls.
Twenty young women, pushed into my vineyard
while the men sang lewd songs
'When we beat the drum, you dance!'
And their whips began to crack ferociously
against the flesh of the Armenian women
who longed for death. Twenty
of them, hand in hand, began their dance.
Tears flowed from their eyes, as if from wounds.
And I envied the dying girl
who could not see, but who cursed
with her harsh breathing, the universe,
poor beautiful Armenian girl
giving wings to her dove white soul,
while I shook my fists in vain against
the mob below. 'You must dance, faithless heathen
beauties. Dance, with open breasts, to death,
smiling at us without complaints!
Fatigue is not for you. Nor modesty.
All the way to death, dance, with lust, with lewdness.
Our eyes are thirsty for your forms and for your deaths.
Twenty handsome girls fell to the ground exhausted.
Stand up' the roar thundered behind the snakelike
whirling swords. Someone brought a bucket
then, of kerosene. Oh, human justice
I spit at your forehead. Then they
doused those twenty brides, shouting
'You must dance. And here's a fragrance
Arabia does not have.' And with a torch,
set on fire the naked flesh.
The charred corpses rolled toward death
through the dancing. From my fright
I shuttered the window as if against
a hurricane. And asked the dead girl in the room,
'How shall I dig out these eyes of mine. How?'"
(1909)
(translated by Diana Der Hovanessian & Marzbed Margossian)
.....and this evening before sunset
all of you will go back to your houses,
whether they are mud or marble,
and clamly close the treacherous
shutters of your windows.
Shut them from the wicked Capital,
shut them to the face of humanity,
and to the face of your god...
Even the lamp on your table
will be extinguished
by the whispers of your clear soul.
-by Siamanto
This poem is by Siamanto, one of the poets executed on April 24, 1915 after witnessing the beginnings of what would be the first genocide of the 20th Century. My grandparents escaped these exact purges, my paternal grandfather becoming a warrior (guerrilla) and my grandmother becoming a nurse for the American missionaries in Mesopotamia. It is one of the first witness poems of the 20th century.
Siamanto(Adom Yarjanian)- 1878-1915
The Dance
Her blue eyes, drowned in tears,
the German witness to the horrors tried
to describe the ashfields where the Armenian life had died:
"This untellable thing I'm trying to say
I saw with my pitiless human eyes
from the hellish window of my safe house.
While I gnashed my teeth in terror and frustration
my eyes stayed open and pitiless.
I saw a garden city change into ash heaps.
Corpses piled to the tops of trees.
And from the waters, from the springs,
from the brooks and from the roads,
the roar of your blood.
It is the voice of that blood that still speaks
in my heart. Don't be disgusted,
but I have to tell this story
so that people understand the crimes
men do to men. Let all the hearts of the world hear.
That morning with death's shadows was a Sunday,
the first useless Sunday to rise over those bodies.
I had been in my room all night, tending,
from evening until morning, a girl I knew
stabbed by knives. I bent over her agony
wetting her death with my tears.
Suddenly I heard from a distance
a black mob of men, whipping, leading twenty girls.
Twenty young women, pushed into my vineyard
while the men sang lewd songs
'When we beat the drum, you dance!'
And their whips began to crack ferociously
against the flesh of the Armenian women
who longed for death. Twenty
of them, hand in hand, began their dance.
Tears flowed from their eyes, as if from wounds.
And I envied the dying girl
who could not see, but who cursed
with her harsh breathing, the universe,
poor beautiful Armenian girl
giving wings to her dove white soul,
while I shook my fists in vain against
the mob below. 'You must dance, faithless heathen
beauties. Dance, with open breasts, to death,
smiling at us without complaints!
Fatigue is not for you. Nor modesty.
All the way to death, dance, with lust, with lewdness.
Our eyes are thirsty for your forms and for your deaths.
Twenty handsome girls fell to the ground exhausted.
Stand up' the roar thundered behind the snakelike
whirling swords. Someone brought a bucket
then, of kerosene. Oh, human justice
I spit at your forehead. Then they
doused those twenty brides, shouting
'You must dance. And here's a fragrance
Arabia does not have.' And with a torch,
set on fire the naked flesh.
The charred corpses rolled toward death
through the dancing. From my fright
I shuttered the window as if against
a hurricane. And asked the dead girl in the room,
'How shall I dig out these eyes of mine. How?'"
(1909)
(translated by Diana Der Hovanessian & Marzbed Margossian)
.....and this evening before sunset
all of you will go back to your houses,
whether they are mud or marble,
and clamly close the treacherous
shutters of your windows.
Shut them from the wicked Capital,
shut them to the face of humanity,
and to the face of your god...
Even the lamp on your table
will be extinguished
by the whispers of your clear soul.
-by Siamanto
Monday, April 23, 2007
Master Teacher Blues
My master teacher is a sad woman. I took the high road early in the year, listened to her, watched her teach, even brought her some gifts because I thought she was depressed and felt sorry for her, listened to her talk about her family problems, listened, listened, listened. I even brought her baklava, homemade at that.
I also listened to her put me down in her passive aggressive ways, talk about how people who speak a foreign language at home will never "cut it" in teaching or as students, correct me in front of the whole class when I called "Calliope" (KA-LEE-OH-PEE) which is the proper way to say the term (not Cuh-lye-oh-pee) told me that I would be better in middle school, metacognitive stuff "dumbs down lowell" that I'm too easy a grader, etc etc etc. People would come up to me and ask and I would say "oh, it's fine" etc etc. Then I would also get comments from various people who would ask me who my master teacher is and when I would say her name they would respond, "Oh, you poor thing." I didn't get it! I thought maybe she is moody and I felt very sorry for her. So I sat and quietly listened. She thinks grouping is bad teaching, overheads are unnecessary, and lecture is best. Well too effing bad. I may be nice, but I'm not an idiot.
Then, in January when I began getting my preparations in order, I asked if I could use an overhead. It's a damn overhead, it's not much to ask for. She had a cow. So, I went to the department chair and innocently asked "are there any extra overheads in the classrooms, M doesn't seem to have one? And when she found out that my master teacher doesn't use one and also doesn't allow me to use one, the poop hit the fan." The dept. chair went to the VP and then everything went nuts. This woman has a history! Why the hell did they place a student teacher with her!!???
All the teachers come up to me and congratulate me for being a "trooper" and working with this crazy nut. I am sick of this.
Anyway, the VP has been very supportive and so has the department chair. I am actually hoping they can observe me next week. What to do? It is so awkward and I hate animosity. My sister has always said that I would be nice to Osama if I met him and I am too nice, so I feel good that I was a little assertive. It is a very awkward situation. I think the woman needs medication!
I also listened to her put me down in her passive aggressive ways, talk about how people who speak a foreign language at home will never "cut it" in teaching or as students, correct me in front of the whole class when I called "Calliope" (KA-LEE-OH-PEE) which is the proper way to say the term (not Cuh-lye-oh-pee) told me that I would be better in middle school, metacognitive stuff "dumbs down lowell" that I'm too easy a grader, etc etc etc. People would come up to me and ask and I would say "oh, it's fine" etc etc. Then I would also get comments from various people who would ask me who my master teacher is and when I would say her name they would respond, "Oh, you poor thing." I didn't get it! I thought maybe she is moody and I felt very sorry for her. So I sat and quietly listened. She thinks grouping is bad teaching, overheads are unnecessary, and lecture is best. Well too effing bad. I may be nice, but I'm not an idiot.
Then, in January when I began getting my preparations in order, I asked if I could use an overhead. It's a damn overhead, it's not much to ask for. She had a cow. So, I went to the department chair and innocently asked "are there any extra overheads in the classrooms, M doesn't seem to have one? And when she found out that my master teacher doesn't use one and also doesn't allow me to use one, the poop hit the fan." The dept. chair went to the VP and then everything went nuts. This woman has a history! Why the hell did they place a student teacher with her!!???
All the teachers come up to me and congratulate me for being a "trooper" and working with this crazy nut. I am sick of this.
Anyway, the VP has been very supportive and so has the department chair. I am actually hoping they can observe me next week. What to do? It is so awkward and I hate animosity. My sister has always said that I would be nice to Osama if I met him and I am too nice, so I feel good that I was a little assertive. It is a very awkward situation. I think the woman needs medication!
Sunday, April 22, 2007
The Helpful Hubby
The power of my helpful hubby. On top of the fact that he is mr. mom the minute he gets home and cleans nappies while listening to elvis costello, he also shows me practical ways to deal with students, interview questions, school politics, lesson plans, etc. I guess I have an advantage because I have a few years of teaching and I have E's ideas on how to deal with students, portfolios, evaluations, job search (can't go to his district, it's just too far). When I ask him for his opinion on articles we read, he can't help me. It's just not practical stuff. He is not a theoretist, and neither will I be when I start working in a district.
So, now I have to get my icap done and just noticed a similarity. Everything addressed in the TPEs is what our future administrators will use in their formal and informal observations of us. When he showed me his evaluation form that the state mandates administrators to use when they evaluate teachers, it looks almost like the TPEs!~!!!!!!!
What a sigh of relief!!!! AT LAST, the stuff we are doing in our credential program ACTUALLY MESHES WITH WHAT WE WILL BE DOING IN OUR JOBS.
So, now I have to get my icap done and just noticed a similarity. Everything addressed in the TPEs is what our future administrators will use in their formal and informal observations of us. When he showed me his evaluation form that the state mandates administrators to use when they evaluate teachers, it looks almost like the TPEs!~!!!!!!!
What a sigh of relief!!!! AT LAST, the stuff we are doing in our credential program ACTUALLY MESHES WITH WHAT WE WILL BE DOING IN OUR JOBS.
Friday, April 20, 2007
It worked
I decided to deal with Mr. Hubris (my arrogant studen) in this manner.
After reading his rude, crude, socially unacceptable, misogynistic, hedonistic story, I thought he wants to shock me. So I decided to not address the rude element and to rip into the story for its immature writing, lack of plot, weak setting, lack of rising action, lack of extended metaphor, and all that other stuff. I wrote, "T, this is a very ridiculous attempt at writing about AIDS as a global issue. It is silly and lacks the depth of a ninth grader at this school. It lacks a setting, plot is weak, and is an F. However, if you would like a better grade, you have until Monday (just like the rest of the class) to come up with a draft and sketch for your story. Also, since you have addressed AIDS in such a weak way, you will write the story about global warming." Sincerely, My name."
This is also the same kid who decided to write a comment with specific innuendos in our class blog. That time, I came in and said, "one more rude entry, and I will close the blog. Period." Also, my blog is great because the site I use gives you this power of omniscience where you can delete their entries if they are rude. So I deleted his.
When he came in, I didn't react, it was business as usual. After class, I called him over and went over the story. I told him it was also a rude story and he said, "what do you mean" and I said nothing, I handed back the story and told him "one more piece of writing like this and mom will be joining you in my class for the whole period. Period." His face went pale. The mom in me felt pleased.
After reading his rude, crude, socially unacceptable, misogynistic, hedonistic story, I thought he wants to shock me. So I decided to not address the rude element and to rip into the story for its immature writing, lack of plot, weak setting, lack of rising action, lack of extended metaphor, and all that other stuff. I wrote, "T, this is a very ridiculous attempt at writing about AIDS as a global issue. It is silly and lacks the depth of a ninth grader at this school. It lacks a setting, plot is weak, and is an F. However, if you would like a better grade, you have until Monday (just like the rest of the class) to come up with a draft and sketch for your story. Also, since you have addressed AIDS in such a weak way, you will write the story about global warming." Sincerely, My name."
This is also the same kid who decided to write a comment with specific innuendos in our class blog. That time, I came in and said, "one more rude entry, and I will close the blog. Period." Also, my blog is great because the site I use gives you this power of omniscience where you can delete their entries if they are rude. So I deleted his.
When he came in, I didn't react, it was business as usual. After class, I called him over and went over the story. I told him it was also a rude story and he said, "what do you mean" and I said nothing, I handed back the story and told him "one more piece of writing like this and mom will be joining you in my class for the whole period. Period." His face went pale. The mom in me felt pleased.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
How to deal with a great writer who is a rude, obnoxious kid.
My students are writing allegorical tales regarding a "terrible thing" (Like Eve Bunting's children's story, "Terrible Things" which is an allegory of the holocaust) such as global warming, AIDS, famine, war, racism, etc. We are reading Night and I thought it would be a nice way to "lighten" the unit, since it is heavy and I have timed it during genocide awareness month. The lesson is going very well, except for the little horny twirp that always makes innuendos in class. That's it, I've had it with this brat - you're walking here, but you're limping back.
First, early in the semester he wrote numerous things that were on the border of offensive, for example, when I asked my students to write two examples of assonance and consonance he wrote something like "teacher is delicious, booticious, and malicious." Strike one. I called home. He was somewhat embarrassed and I have been in touch with mom.
Second, he always says things that are on the border of inappropriate. Does he practice being this annoying, or is it a natural talent. I explain that his comments are offensive to all the girls in this class and that I don't want to warn him ever again.
Third, his story is going to be about aids. He wanted to have an animal named "magic" and I said that better not be referring to a certain basketball player. He laughed and said, "Ok Mrs. (name) you got me." I told him that he can write it but when I check the draft, if there is one thing that is offensive, it's an automatic re-write. Period.
So I collected the draft, and of course, it's totally, absolutely offensive. Sexual stuff, based on a kid who likes chocolate ice cream and a kid who likes cherry. Racist actually, and last night I decided I am taking this kid down. That's it. Dr. Evil is coming out. I am the daughter of an olympic boxer.
So, today I am emailing mom, pulling him aside, and giving him an automatic F if he doesn't totally change the story by tomorrow. I will also be inviting mom to class. Let her sit with him, maybe his excessive hubris will be deflated. How's that for dessert?
First, early in the semester he wrote numerous things that were on the border of offensive, for example, when I asked my students to write two examples of assonance and consonance he wrote something like "teacher is delicious, booticious, and malicious." Strike one. I called home. He was somewhat embarrassed and I have been in touch with mom.
Second, he always says things that are on the border of inappropriate. Does he practice being this annoying, or is it a natural talent. I explain that his comments are offensive to all the girls in this class and that I don't want to warn him ever again.
Third, his story is going to be about aids. He wanted to have an animal named "magic" and I said that better not be referring to a certain basketball player. He laughed and said, "Ok Mrs. (name) you got me." I told him that he can write it but when I check the draft, if there is one thing that is offensive, it's an automatic re-write. Period.
So I collected the draft, and of course, it's totally, absolutely offensive. Sexual stuff, based on a kid who likes chocolate ice cream and a kid who likes cherry. Racist actually, and last night I decided I am taking this kid down. That's it. Dr. Evil is coming out. I am the daughter of an olympic boxer.
So, today I am emailing mom, pulling him aside, and giving him an automatic F if he doesn't totally change the story by tomorrow. I will also be inviting mom to class. Let her sit with him, maybe his excessive hubris will be deflated. How's that for dessert?
Monday, April 16, 2007
April is the cruelest month indeed.
My husband told me that most school violence takes place in April. It's a misnomer that people equate it with Hitler's birthday, but that it actually has to do with April, Spring, and I guess the biology of chaos. Most genocides have also started in April. April is indeed the cruelest month.
As a teacher, I don't have any words to describe my horror and disgust at the news today. As a teacher, it fills me with fear, since I have experienced violence before (May 5, 2000, murder of a mexican gang member by and Armenian gang - happened right in front of me in Glendale while I was hanging out with my students in front of the school's malt shop as I was trying to protect them, a high school student was killed in broad daylight) and then I think as a parent, one day my kids will be in school and I have no control over the type of people they are surrounded by. It's making me a bit neurotic.
My husband is in a gang infested school, and as principal, has had to expell gang kids, only to find tagging and strange things showing up on his school site. This scares the living daylights out of me.
I guess this waxes philosophical or religious, but I am planning my little one's baptism. In Armenian, when the priest asks, "what do you wish for this child?" the Godfather repeats (3 times - trinity) -"faith, hope, love and baptism." Then the priest puts this holy oil that has been made from 1400 kinds of flowers all over the eyes, forehead, back, feet, etc. So, I guess I have to think the same way for all children, students included, that every day, being in the classroom, I do so with faith, hope, love and baptism for humanity (Baptism also related to wisdom) and I guess the holy oil is just the education you hope to give them so that they can make the world a better place.
I guess you can only control so much. So what do I tell my students tomorrow? How about, nothing! How about, do my job and if the question arises, let them talk.
As a teacher, I don't have any words to describe my horror and disgust at the news today. As a teacher, it fills me with fear, since I have experienced violence before (May 5, 2000, murder of a mexican gang member by and Armenian gang - happened right in front of me in Glendale while I was hanging out with my students in front of the school's malt shop as I was trying to protect them, a high school student was killed in broad daylight) and then I think as a parent, one day my kids will be in school and I have no control over the type of people they are surrounded by. It's making me a bit neurotic.
My husband is in a gang infested school, and as principal, has had to expell gang kids, only to find tagging and strange things showing up on his school site. This scares the living daylights out of me.
I guess this waxes philosophical or religious, but I am planning my little one's baptism. In Armenian, when the priest asks, "what do you wish for this child?" the Godfather repeats (3 times - trinity) -"faith, hope, love and baptism." Then the priest puts this holy oil that has been made from 1400 kinds of flowers all over the eyes, forehead, back, feet, etc. So, I guess I have to think the same way for all children, students included, that every day, being in the classroom, I do so with faith, hope, love and baptism for humanity (Baptism also related to wisdom) and I guess the holy oil is just the education you hope to give them so that they can make the world a better place.
I guess you can only control so much. So what do I tell my students tomorrow? How about, nothing! How about, do my job and if the question arises, let them talk.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
private and public schools
The end of the semester is getting near and I am getting anxious! I only have four more meetings in my C&I class and a lifetime of teaching ahead of me. DO I know everything? No. Am I synthesizing all the information? Sort of.
Today was a pleasant teaching day, and I figured that the best days are the ones where I am overprepared. That's just the name of the game. I had my full notes, did my homework, had the power point slides in tip top shape with pictures and all kinds of neat stuff, and the kids were loving it.
As for the job hunt, I am not being very agressive, but I am starting to look at local schools on the west side. Of course, it would be great to get a job at my site, but I am not going to assume that I would even be hired. I had an informational interview at a local Jesuit school, and here's what I think.
First of all, every single classroom was in top shape. New desks, carpeted floors, student work everywhere, document cameras in each classroom, LCD projectors mounted on the ceilings, screens that with the push of a button, pop back into the ceiling, happy students, happy teachers, just a dream. The grounds were immaculate, fresh flowers were planted everywhere, the mulch was fresh and there weren't any three day old banana peels on the floors.
Of course, this is also a very, very wealthy school. Tuition is upwards of 14K, with all kinds of other expenses. That is actually one of the more reasonably priced high schools in the city - my daughter's pre-k is 9K, so for a high school, that's not really bad.
Also, the teachers are fantastic. The one I met with was so positive, students were coming to her classroom for one on one time and essay work, and she would say, "excuse me, let me just talk to her for a second...mary, how are your parents, come over here and sit down. Highlight all the verbs in your essay and put them in present tense. " etcetc.
I looked at their pay scale and it was a little more, ie: I would make about 48,500 if I worked there. Not bad. SFUSD would pay about 46. However, you don't need to worry about the pressure of no supplies, negative teachers, old crap all over the office, dusty OEDs that no one ever looks at, etc.
The teacher told me that they take care of the school because the kids deserve it. I know that is also a marketing comment, however, she really meant it, and I agree.
Treat them with respect, and the kids will respect you. I do believe that.
Today was a pleasant teaching day, and I figured that the best days are the ones where I am overprepared. That's just the name of the game. I had my full notes, did my homework, had the power point slides in tip top shape with pictures and all kinds of neat stuff, and the kids were loving it.
As for the job hunt, I am not being very agressive, but I am starting to look at local schools on the west side. Of course, it would be great to get a job at my site, but I am not going to assume that I would even be hired. I had an informational interview at a local Jesuit school, and here's what I think.
First of all, every single classroom was in top shape. New desks, carpeted floors, student work everywhere, document cameras in each classroom, LCD projectors mounted on the ceilings, screens that with the push of a button, pop back into the ceiling, happy students, happy teachers, just a dream. The grounds were immaculate, fresh flowers were planted everywhere, the mulch was fresh and there weren't any three day old banana peels on the floors.
Of course, this is also a very, very wealthy school. Tuition is upwards of 14K, with all kinds of other expenses. That is actually one of the more reasonably priced high schools in the city - my daughter's pre-k is 9K, so for a high school, that's not really bad.
Also, the teachers are fantastic. The one I met with was so positive, students were coming to her classroom for one on one time and essay work, and she would say, "excuse me, let me just talk to her for a second...mary, how are your parents, come over here and sit down. Highlight all the verbs in your essay and put them in present tense. " etcetc.
I looked at their pay scale and it was a little more, ie: I would make about 48,500 if I worked there. Not bad. SFUSD would pay about 46. However, you don't need to worry about the pressure of no supplies, negative teachers, old crap all over the office, dusty OEDs that no one ever looks at, etc.
The teacher told me that they take care of the school because the kids deserve it. I know that is also a marketing comment, however, she really meant it, and I agree.
Treat them with respect, and the kids will respect you. I do believe that.
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