I don't often think myself old... even when my daughter was getting married, or both older daughters graduating from college / grad school in the same month, but occasionally it hits me in the face, like the other day.
I meet weekly with a small group of teachers who have many of the same students I have, to talk about issues we may be having with those students, and whether any of us have found good methods of dealing with those issues. The leader of this group is a history teacher who I've come to respect for her good insights and wise perspective. She mentioned her birthday was coming up. Someone asked which one. She answered she'd be 25. "My god," I realized. "I have a daughter older than you."
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Makin' Copies.
New rule, starting Jan 4: we've hired someone to make the copies for us - we're no longer allowed to make our own - and we have to submit the request 48 hours in advance. And we're limited to 1,000 copies per month. Of course, given that I have yet to have a worksheet ready for one of my courses more than about 6 hours in advance of the course, I'm unlikely to need the 1,000 copies.
I'm pretty sure this rule will go away very quickly, given that virtually every teacher in the school is going to go nuts the first time they need a worksheet or an article or whatever copied for their class the next day. That said, it's going to be a right regular pain in the class between now and then.
The 1,000 copies per month thing sounds like kind of a lot, but keep in mind -- I don't have textbooks. So if I want to assign homework, particularly on something like polyhedra (which no one can draw freehand), I have to produce a worksheet. That's 80 copies each day I assign homework. If I give a quiz or test, it's another 160 copies over 2 days. Which means I can give 12 homework / quiz / test pages per month, or about 1 per week, since I only meet with the same kids every other day. God forbid I should give a 2 page test or homework assignment.
I'm pretty sure this rule will go away very quickly, given that virtually every teacher in the school is going to go nuts the first time they need a worksheet or an article or whatever copied for their class the next day. That said, it's going to be a right regular pain in the class between now and then.
The 1,000 copies per month thing sounds like kind of a lot, but keep in mind -- I don't have textbooks. So if I want to assign homework, particularly on something like polyhedra (which no one can draw freehand), I have to produce a worksheet. That's 80 copies each day I assign homework. If I give a quiz or test, it's another 160 copies over 2 days. Which means I can give 12 homework / quiz / test pages per month, or about 1 per week, since I only meet with the same kids every other day. God forbid I should give a 2 page test or homework assignment.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Interesting Stuff
I gotta get to bed, so this is going to be short, but with any luck, I'll come back and edit it after the state visit on Wednesday.
I prepared extensively for a geometry lesson, with multiple handouts and lots of thought put into how to step the kids through a multi-step process that was going to be important for them to be able to get through.
First period is a disaster. (It starts with a kid who won't surrender her phone, forcing me to call security to escort her to the administrator's office). Virtually no one is paying attention, and the ones who are, are grousing about not understanding, my going too fast, etc. I can't get anyone in the room to focus on the work and get through the step-by-step process.
Second period... same process, same preamble regarding the work, etc. It goes incredibly well, the group all gets it, and we whip through several examples and extra problems with time to spare.
Third period was in between, but generally positive.
Why? The 1st period class has a personality, driven by a few students but contributed to by many. And that personality is not good for their education or my sanity. More than half the students are flunking, and one reason I prepared the lesson I did today was to give them a chance for an easy, good grade based on attempting the classwork. All it actually did was further separate the ones who are flunking (none of whom even attempted to complete the work) from the ones who are not (virtually all of whom completed the work).
I prepared extensively for a geometry lesson, with multiple handouts and lots of thought put into how to step the kids through a multi-step process that was going to be important for them to be able to get through.
First period is a disaster. (It starts with a kid who won't surrender her phone, forcing me to call security to escort her to the administrator's office). Virtually no one is paying attention, and the ones who are, are grousing about not understanding, my going too fast, etc. I can't get anyone in the room to focus on the work and get through the step-by-step process.
Second period... same process, same preamble regarding the work, etc. It goes incredibly well, the group all gets it, and we whip through several examples and extra problems with time to spare.
Third period was in between, but generally positive.
Why? The 1st period class has a personality, driven by a few students but contributed to by many. And that personality is not good for their education or my sanity. More than half the students are flunking, and one reason I prepared the lesson I did today was to give them a chance for an easy, good grade based on attempting the classwork. All it actually did was further separate the ones who are flunking (none of whom even attempted to complete the work) from the ones who are not (virtually all of whom completed the work).
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Apropos of Nothing
Because I'm a new teacher, my principal is supposed to, in the first 45 days, have a pre-observation interview with me, observe me in the classroom, and have a post-observation interview, after which I generate a plan for what I'm going to work on. He sent a note out a couple of weeks ago to me and a few other teachers to stop by his office THAT DAY, as early in the day as possible, to have the first meeting. I stopped him in the hall and we scheduled the meeting for the following day at 1 PM. I sat alone in his office until 1:10, at which time he walked in, asked "Are we supposed to have a meeting?" and told me he had a 1 PM observation of someone else he had to do. I left, saying that he should call me when he wants to reschedule. I haven't heard from him. Of note, we're now approximately 60 days into the year.
Meanwhile, he actually did an observation of me when the state poobahs were in town (don't know why), but I've gotten no feedback from him about it, and no paperwork of any kind regarding it.
Meanwhile, he actually did an observation of me when the state poobahs were in town (don't know why), but I've gotten no feedback from him about it, and no paperwork of any kind regarding it.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
My father
My father died yesterday.
Most of the traits I believe myself to have that I like are inheritances from him, including his facility for math, his quick wit and his sharp sense of humor. Every time I come up with some elaborate hoax to perpetrate on a co-worker or create some very personalized toy or trinket to give to a friend, I think of the similar things he did in the years I was growing up. I claimed never to have forgiven him for taking my "Gulf No-Knocks" horseshoes (a gas station giveaway back in the days they fought for your business with promotional items) when I was eight, promising to replace them the next time he bought gas, not realizing the promotion had ended. Secretly, though, I thought it was kind of cool he'd used the horseshoes as part of some gag on a friend at the office.
We weren't as close as I would like for a father and child to be. I don't know when, exactly, we stopped trying, but we did. I know he was disappointed with many of the choices I made throughout my adult life, and I was disappointed he wasn't more accepting of them, or at least more accepting of me despite the choices. I will undoubtedly err in the opposite direction with my own children, and their remembrances of me will be colored by their disappointment I didn't provide more guidance in their lives. I can live with that.
A minister came into his room at the hospice yesterday while my mother and I were there and asked us what we would like to pray for, for him. I chose peace. I don't believe he found much peace during his life, and it would be good if he could find some in death.
So, my father is dead. May he rest in peace.
Most of the traits I believe myself to have that I like are inheritances from him, including his facility for math, his quick wit and his sharp sense of humor. Every time I come up with some elaborate hoax to perpetrate on a co-worker or create some very personalized toy or trinket to give to a friend, I think of the similar things he did in the years I was growing up. I claimed never to have forgiven him for taking my "Gulf No-Knocks" horseshoes (a gas station giveaway back in the days they fought for your business with promotional items) when I was eight, promising to replace them the next time he bought gas, not realizing the promotion had ended. Secretly, though, I thought it was kind of cool he'd used the horseshoes as part of some gag on a friend at the office.
We weren't as close as I would like for a father and child to be. I don't know when, exactly, we stopped trying, but we did. I know he was disappointed with many of the choices I made throughout my adult life, and I was disappointed he wasn't more accepting of them, or at least more accepting of me despite the choices. I will undoubtedly err in the opposite direction with my own children, and their remembrances of me will be colored by their disappointment I didn't provide more guidance in their lives. I can live with that.
A minister came into his room at the hospice yesterday while my mother and I were there and asked us what we would like to pray for, for him. I chose peace. I don't believe he found much peace during his life, and it would be good if he could find some in death.
So, my father is dead. May he rest in peace.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Mea Culpa
So I'm getting irritated with my friends and family who haven't been posting to their blogs (what am I supposed to do when I should be doing lesson plans if you haven't updated your blog recently?) and I'm at least as guilty as they are. So here's a blog post.
Topics I should cover soon...
The state visit to each of the turnaround schools.
New teacher hired, and some kids moved from everyone's geometry classes into his.
"Unpacking" our data to differentiate our instruction.
The note sent to all new teachers, plus all teachers who are on double secret probation.
Parents wanting grade recovery.
we'll see...
Topics I should cover soon...
The state visit to each of the turnaround schools.
New teacher hired, and some kids moved from everyone's geometry classes into his.
"Unpacking" our data to differentiate our instruction.
The note sent to all new teachers, plus all teachers who are on double secret probation.
Parents wanting grade recovery.
we'll see...
Friday, October 23, 2009
First Quarter Score
Well, the home team's losing, but they looked better as the quarter went on, and there's hope they'll survive to the end of the game.
The state poobahs are coming in next week to do a full-school review, and they will presumably be spending time in each classroom. This has me a little concerned, but my concern is nothing compared to the hysteria this has caused with the administration. Which of course has trickled (more like "gushed," really) down to all the teachers. We have been given marching orders on at least a dozen things, all of which are "non-negotiable," and been told in no uncertain terms that we're all replacable, and that if we don't feel like meeting some of these demands, or we feel as if we don't have time, then we should find a new job where the demands won't be so heavy. Gee, I don't know if I could find another job that pays this well, in such a nuturing environment, where the physical space was so inviting and I was so well appreciated by both my bosses and my subordinates.
(It occurs to me I haven't talked about the physical space... the high school itself... with the exception of a brief mention of my portable classroom. Turns out I'm in the lap of luxury out in the boondocks. The classrooms in the main school are, frankly, abysmal. Mine smells kind of moldy, but at least it's big enough so that it doesn't feel like a prison cell with 35 people in it.)
So anyway, all of the teachers are at the breaking point -- at least 4 of them have been at meetings or received memos that left them in tears. We got a new set of ludicrous demands today, adding to an already ridiculously over-filled workload. Personally, my plan is to do what I can in the 10 or so hours per day I'm willing to devote to work, and deal with the wrath that will befall me when not enough of the "non-negotiables" are completed. For me, it's the only way to stay sane, and not be angry all the time. I expend enough energy trying to figure out how to teach without spending all of the rest of it trying to achieve the impossible. I imagine the rhetoric will be toned down some after the state leaves, although if (when, really) we get a bad report, we'll undoubtedly get a new round of "non-negotiables."
The state poobahs are coming in next week to do a full-school review, and they will presumably be spending time in each classroom. This has me a little concerned, but my concern is nothing compared to the hysteria this has caused with the administration. Which of course has trickled (more like "gushed," really) down to all the teachers. We have been given marching orders on at least a dozen things, all of which are "non-negotiable," and been told in no uncertain terms that we're all replacable, and that if we don't feel like meeting some of these demands, or we feel as if we don't have time, then we should find a new job where the demands won't be so heavy. Gee, I don't know if I could find another job that pays this well, in such a nuturing environment, where the physical space was so inviting and I was so well appreciated by both my bosses and my subordinates.
(It occurs to me I haven't talked about the physical space... the high school itself... with the exception of a brief mention of my portable classroom. Turns out I'm in the lap of luxury out in the boondocks. The classrooms in the main school are, frankly, abysmal. Mine smells kind of moldy, but at least it's big enough so that it doesn't feel like a prison cell with 35 people in it.)
So anyway, all of the teachers are at the breaking point -- at least 4 of them have been at meetings or received memos that left them in tears. We got a new set of ludicrous demands today, adding to an already ridiculously over-filled workload. Personally, my plan is to do what I can in the 10 or so hours per day I'm willing to devote to work, and deal with the wrath that will befall me when not enough of the "non-negotiables" are completed. For me, it's the only way to stay sane, and not be angry all the time. I expend enough energy trying to figure out how to teach without spending all of the rest of it trying to achieve the impossible. I imagine the rhetoric will be toned down some after the state leaves, although if (when, really) we get a bad report, we'll undoubtedly get a new round of "non-negotiables."
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
More admin hijinx
The administration of MHS has scheduled meetings every single day except Friday from 1:45 (when school ends) to 2:45. Many of my kids have asked numerous times if they could come after school to get tutoring or to make up quizzes or tests, so I've told them I'd stay every day Monday through Thursday from 2:45 to 3:45. They, of course, want me to be there at 1:45 so they won't have to kill an hour waiting for me. My initial response is essentially "tough beans, my friend. You want the help, here's when it's available." But the truth is, it's hard enough to get kids to care enough to want the extra help, I'd like to make it somewhat easier to get.
So... I found out last week that for various reasons, my Tuesday afternoon meeting was cancelled, so I could offer 1:45 to my students. This is especially helpful now, because the end of the quarter is Friday, and they have a test Wednesday or Thursday. Several kids appropriately saw this as their last chance to make up a test or quiz they'd missed.
Five kids showed up at 1:45. At 1:50, an announcement over the loud speaker asks all math teachers to report to the conference room. I ignore it. It gets announced again. I go next door to Mrs. CowCulus's room and ask her to find out what's happening and call me if I need to show up. Another announcement. I finally tell my kids I'm probably going to have to leave, and then there's an announcement specifically for me to come to the office. When I get there, the first words out of the principal's mouth are that when he calls impromptu meetings, we need to show up for them... it's all part of moving our school from a D to a B. My first thought was that when I tell my students they have to be responsible, and expect them to look to me as an example, part of that is keeping one's commitments -- like being available during the times I have previously scheduled, and have cleared my calendar to accomodate. My second thought was that I'm not likely to win any influential friends with that comment, so I keep it to myself.
Mr. Principal isn't winning any friends, influential or otherwise, in my neck of the woods.
So... I found out last week that for various reasons, my Tuesday afternoon meeting was cancelled, so I could offer 1:45 to my students. This is especially helpful now, because the end of the quarter is Friday, and they have a test Wednesday or Thursday. Several kids appropriately saw this as their last chance to make up a test or quiz they'd missed.
Five kids showed up at 1:45. At 1:50, an announcement over the loud speaker asks all math teachers to report to the conference room. I ignore it. It gets announced again. I go next door to Mrs. CowCulus's room and ask her to find out what's happening and call me if I need to show up. Another announcement. I finally tell my kids I'm probably going to have to leave, and then there's an announcement specifically for me to come to the office. When I get there, the first words out of the principal's mouth are that when he calls impromptu meetings, we need to show up for them... it's all part of moving our school from a D to a B. My first thought was that when I tell my students they have to be responsible, and expect them to look to me as an example, part of that is keeping one's commitments -- like being available during the times I have previously scheduled, and have cleared my calendar to accomodate. My second thought was that I'm not likely to win any influential friends with that comment, so I keep it to myself.
Mr. Principal isn't winning any friends, influential or otherwise, in my neck of the woods.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
In what world is this okay?
I got to school at 6am on Wednesday, per usual, and went to my mailbox. In it was a memo from the principal's secretary to me saying "Please schedule a meeting with Mr. Principal on Wednesday. You may bring representation to the meeting."
I freaked. First, I went to Mrs. D, one of my two closest confidantes at school (along with Mrs. CowCulus), because she's always in that early, and she's been teaching for 33 years. I was hoping she'd say something to the effect that this is the standard letter they send when you have to sign your contract, or whatever.
She freaked. In the process of saying this sounded very bad, she also managed to say a number of very nice things about me vis-a-vis my teaching. In addition, she asked if any of the other teachers had similar notes in their boxes. It hadn't dawned on me to look, so I went back up and checked. Sure enough, 4 or 5 other teachers had notes. Unfortunately, of the ones I knew, they were teachers who I've heard less than stellar reports on.
So I continued to freak. I wandered around the office for a few minutes trying to figure out what to do next, when the principal's secretary came in, went to her office and immediately shut her door. Undeterred, I knocked and entered. I asked her what this was about. She seemed very apologetic and said it was about lesson plans. She said there were 12 people on the list, and they all got the same note. (One of the assistant principals had checked people's lesson plans the previous day, and mine was hand-written and frankly not terribly thorough. Nonetheless, it was done, which is the only requirement I know of -- if they want it done well, they should probably do some training, since we've been given three different lesson plan formats since the beginning of the year and no explanation of what they want on any of them... but that's another story.)
So now I'm not freaking out anymore, but I'm starting to get irritated. I should bring representation to a meeting about substandard lesson plans? (At this point it hadn't dawned on me that they probably meant union representation rather than legal, but still... representation for lesson plan malfeasance?) After getting back to my room, I called the principal's secretary and said I wanted to schedule the meeting, to which she replied that I should just try to catch him when he's free and talk to him then. Now I'm getting really irritated. "No," I said, "he asked me to schedule a meeting and to bring representation. That's not a 'catch him in the hallway' kind of meeting. Also, when he asks me to schedule a meeting, I'm not going to hang around hoping to catch him. Schedule a meeting."
We set it for 12:30. Fifteen minutes later she calls me back to tell me that she's spoken with him and let him know that people are very upset about the note. (Apparently, one of the teachers began crying, and another turned around to leave school, feeling she would be unable to teach that day, until she learned what it was about.) The principal then told her that the people with hand-written plans shouldn't have been on the list, so I don't have to meet with him after all.
Now I'm livid. You send me a note like that and it turns out it's a MISTAKE? The only reasonable interpretation of that note is that I'm about to be fired, and it's all just a big mistake? Oops, sorry.
Turns out I'm not the only one unhappy -- this example of "bull in the china shop" leadership has been the talk of the school for the last couple of days. Despite that, I've heard no apology or explanation from the principal. As Mrs. CowCulus said, every one of the teachers was behind him 100% at the start, feeling he could turn around the school and make us all proud to be a part of it... but he's losing people fast, and has already lost a lot of them with his "fire, ready, aim" style and his insistence on a dozen different things being highest priority (a tale for another day).
On the personal front, other than expressing my displeasure to another teacher who I know speaks with him regularly about what's going on, I haven't confronted him or anyone else about the note, and don't plan to. There just doesn't seem to be any personal gain to be had in the confrontation, and I'm trying to avoid getting involved in fights against some larger injustice that might be psychically rewarding but personally costly.
I freaked. First, I went to Mrs. D, one of my two closest confidantes at school (along with Mrs. CowCulus), because she's always in that early, and she's been teaching for 33 years. I was hoping she'd say something to the effect that this is the standard letter they send when you have to sign your contract, or whatever.
She freaked. In the process of saying this sounded very bad, she also managed to say a number of very nice things about me vis-a-vis my teaching. In addition, she asked if any of the other teachers had similar notes in their boxes. It hadn't dawned on me to look, so I went back up and checked. Sure enough, 4 or 5 other teachers had notes. Unfortunately, of the ones I knew, they were teachers who I've heard less than stellar reports on.
So I continued to freak. I wandered around the office for a few minutes trying to figure out what to do next, when the principal's secretary came in, went to her office and immediately shut her door. Undeterred, I knocked and entered. I asked her what this was about. She seemed very apologetic and said it was about lesson plans. She said there were 12 people on the list, and they all got the same note. (One of the assistant principals had checked people's lesson plans the previous day, and mine was hand-written and frankly not terribly thorough. Nonetheless, it was done, which is the only requirement I know of -- if they want it done well, they should probably do some training, since we've been given three different lesson plan formats since the beginning of the year and no explanation of what they want on any of them... but that's another story.)
So now I'm not freaking out anymore, but I'm starting to get irritated. I should bring representation to a meeting about substandard lesson plans? (At this point it hadn't dawned on me that they probably meant union representation rather than legal, but still... representation for lesson plan malfeasance?) After getting back to my room, I called the principal's secretary and said I wanted to schedule the meeting, to which she replied that I should just try to catch him when he's free and talk to him then. Now I'm getting really irritated. "No," I said, "he asked me to schedule a meeting and to bring representation. That's not a 'catch him in the hallway' kind of meeting. Also, when he asks me to schedule a meeting, I'm not going to hang around hoping to catch him. Schedule a meeting."
We set it for 12:30. Fifteen minutes later she calls me back to tell me that she's spoken with him and let him know that people are very upset about the note. (Apparently, one of the teachers began crying, and another turned around to leave school, feeling she would be unable to teach that day, until she learned what it was about.) The principal then told her that the people with hand-written plans shouldn't have been on the list, so I don't have to meet with him after all.
Now I'm livid. You send me a note like that and it turns out it's a MISTAKE? The only reasonable interpretation of that note is that I'm about to be fired, and it's all just a big mistake? Oops, sorry.
Turns out I'm not the only one unhappy -- this example of "bull in the china shop" leadership has been the talk of the school for the last couple of days. Despite that, I've heard no apology or explanation from the principal. As Mrs. CowCulus said, every one of the teachers was behind him 100% at the start, feeling he could turn around the school and make us all proud to be a part of it... but he's losing people fast, and has already lost a lot of them with his "fire, ready, aim" style and his insistence on a dozen different things being highest priority (a tale for another day).
On the personal front, other than expressing my displeasure to another teacher who I know speaks with him regularly about what's going on, I haven't confronted him or anyone else about the note, and don't plan to. There just doesn't seem to be any personal gain to be had in the confrontation, and I'm trying to avoid getting involved in fights against some larger injustice that might be psychically rewarding but personally costly.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Still haven't graded the quizzes, but tonight's the night.
Meanwhile, I just thought I'd provide some perspective on the student population at MHS (My High School).
Three of my students are pregnant. Not 3 of the students at MHS. Three of mine.
I teach Geometry. Which is a 10th grade class.
Three of my students are pregnant. Not 3 of the students at MHS. Three of mine.
I teach Geometry. Which is a 10th grade class.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
More fun stuff to talk about rather than grade those quizzes...
So I had about 8 kids in my class after school today for various reasons (after-class detention, test re-takers, quiz re-takers and kids seeking help). One kid asks me for the quiz I gave on October 2nd. I give it to her. She says she's never seen this stuff before, and can't possibly take the quiz. I ask her (kind of in a snotty way) why she was coming to take a quiz she was completely unprepared for. Meanwhile, another kid wants the same quiz. He looks at it and gives the same response. So, huffily, I tell them we'll use the time as review of the material they missed while absent, and they'll just have to come back and take the quiz another time. (All the while, I'm thinking about the principal in "Back to the Future" -- "Slackers! You're all slackers!")
So I explain the material to them, they seem to be picking it up, and they leave, properly chastened. I go to put the lesson plan on which I wrote the original quiz back into my notebook where I keep all my lesson plans. Which is when I notice I've given them the Algebra II quiz. These kids are in my Geometry class.
Oops.
So I explain the material to them, they seem to be picking it up, and they leave, properly chastened. I go to put the lesson plan on which I wrote the original quiz back into my notebook where I keep all my lesson plans. Which is when I notice I've given them the Algebra II quiz. These kids are in my Geometry class.
Oops.
Another story that isn't the 3rd anecdote
Picture days for the yearbook were this week, so this is also the week the seniors dress up in strange costumes all week... one day was "nerd day," on which many seniors dressed up as nerds, complete with taped eyeglasses, pocket protectors, etc. They actually did a good job -- many looked much like my high school chess team picture. One day was "twin day," with lots of seniors dressing as twins. Tuesday(I think) was career day, the day they were supposed to dress up as if they were in the career they want to get into. There were lots of doctors, guys in business suits, etc.
About 15 minutes before the end of my 3rd block class, a female senior comes in with a note for one of my students. (Many seniors have "jobs" with the guidance office or various administrators during their free period, if they have one.) I presume she wants to be a police officer. However, the outfit she was wearing was the "police officer" uniform you'd see on the stripper your buddies might get for you at your bachelor party. I swear, I was within a breath of blurting out "You want to be a stripper?!?" So now I'm wondering if (a) she actually wants to be a stripper (do they require a high school diploma for that job these days?), or (b) she's too naive to realize the uniform she was wearing wasn't REALLY a police officer uniform, or (c) she just likes the look, and really plans to be a dental hygenist, like everyone else.
About 15 minutes before the end of my 3rd block class, a female senior comes in with a note for one of my students. (Many seniors have "jobs" with the guidance office or various administrators during their free period, if they have one.) I presume she wants to be a police officer. However, the outfit she was wearing was the "police officer" uniform you'd see on the stripper your buddies might get for you at your bachelor party. I swear, I was within a breath of blurting out "You want to be a stripper?!?" So now I'm wondering if (a) she actually wants to be a stripper (do they require a high school diploma for that job these days?), or (b) she's too naive to realize the uniform she was wearing wasn't REALLY a police officer uniform, or (c) she just likes the look, and really plans to be a dental hygenist, like everyone else.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Three amusing anecdotes
Except I can only remember two right now...
#1
Students today have apparently come to expect to be allowed to make up any test, quiz or bad hair day they don't do well on, in order that we never, ever leave any child behind (even if they can't really do the math). But ok, I will give the make-up exam. (I am considered an ogre among the students because I don't offer an in-class make-up exam -- I make them actually show up after school to take it.)
One of my kids shows up, begins taking the make-up exam, and after about 15 minutes blurts out "Hey, wait a minute -- this isn't the same test!" I sort of chuckled, thinking she was kidding, and noted it was identical to the original with the exception that I'd changed a coefficient or two on each problem. "But it's supposed to be a re-take!" she exclaimed. "It's supposed to be the same test."
Turns out she's angry with me for forcing her to take an actual test of mathematics rather than memory. Except that it wouldn't even be memory, because I allow a page of notes for the test, so I guess she figured that bringing in a completed test and recopying it should be worth a good grade in Geometry.
#2
For reasons that don't really matter, I let it slip that I graduated from high school in 1975. I then got the following responses: "You mean you're 35 years old?" "No... he's 42." "Yeah, I was thinking you looked about 42." "No, he's 35." I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. But I did thank the student who thought I looked 42.
#3
Damn. Still can't remember the third one. If I ever do, I'll edit this post.
OK, I still don't remember the third anecdote, but I just got off the phone with the HR department of My County's Public Schools (MCPS) Office. Here's the situation: we receive 22 paychecks a year. We're paid essentially by the hour, but the paychecks are "equalized" by subtracting some hours from the paid hours and putting them in a "hours bank" so that in pay periods we don't work very much (e.g., winter break), we still get the exact same paycheck. Therefore, I was told, we will get an identical check (within a penny or two) every pay period for 22 pay periods. At the top of the pay stub, there's a little calculation noting actual hours worked, hours banked and gross "equalized" pay. Clearly, the gross equalized pay times 22 equals my gross pay for the year. Except that it doesn't. It's $600 short. Might not seem like much to you, but it's a fair bit of money to someone on a teacher's salary.
So I call Payroll. They tell me that I'm thinking about it wrong, and that I'm not accounting for equalization. I patiently ask if I'm supposed to get 22 equal paychecks. They say yes. I patiently ask if each paycheck is supposed to be for X amount (gross), which is what my first three paychecks were. They say yes. I patiently ask then, won't my total gross pay at the end of the year add up to 22X? They say it would. I patiently ask, then why is 22X less than the salary you told me I was making? They tell me I'm not accounting for equalization. I ask to speak to a supervisor. I get voice mail.
Today, I get a call back, and I go through the whole 22X thing, which he doesn't understand the first several times (really? no one has ever had this concern? no one has ever multiplied 22 times their gross pay and realized it's less than their supposed annual gross pay? how is that possible?). He starts with telling me I am not accounting for equalization, then agrees that's not the issue, only to come back to it later. But no matter, we finally agree that, at the end of the year, I should be able to add up all of my gross pay totals for each pay period and get my total annual salary. We also agree that 22X is less than my total annual salary, but that adding up each gross pay total for 22 pay periods should equal 22X. Then he remembers that the final paycheck won't be equalized. It will be for roughly 11 days' pay, instead of 9, which is what the equalized paychecks are for. The value of roughly two days' pay? $600.
The thing I find most incredible about all this is that no one has ever asked the question before. Can no one do math, even when it matters, like how much you're getting paid?
#1
Students today have apparently come to expect to be allowed to make up any test, quiz or bad hair day they don't do well on, in order that we never, ever leave any child behind (even if they can't really do the math). But ok, I will give the make-up exam. (I am considered an ogre among the students because I don't offer an in-class make-up exam -- I make them actually show up after school to take it.)
One of my kids shows up, begins taking the make-up exam, and after about 15 minutes blurts out "Hey, wait a minute -- this isn't the same test!" I sort of chuckled, thinking she was kidding, and noted it was identical to the original with the exception that I'd changed a coefficient or two on each problem. "But it's supposed to be a re-take!" she exclaimed. "It's supposed to be the same test."
Turns out she's angry with me for forcing her to take an actual test of mathematics rather than memory. Except that it wouldn't even be memory, because I allow a page of notes for the test, so I guess she figured that bringing in a completed test and recopying it should be worth a good grade in Geometry.
#2
For reasons that don't really matter, I let it slip that I graduated from high school in 1975. I then got the following responses: "You mean you're 35 years old?" "No... he's 42." "Yeah, I was thinking you looked about 42." "No, he's 35." I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. But I did thank the student who thought I looked 42.
#3
Damn. Still can't remember the third one. If I ever do, I'll edit this post.
OK, I still don't remember the third anecdote, but I just got off the phone with the HR department of My County's Public Schools (MCPS) Office. Here's the situation: we receive 22 paychecks a year. We're paid essentially by the hour, but the paychecks are "equalized" by subtracting some hours from the paid hours and putting them in a "hours bank" so that in pay periods we don't work very much (e.g., winter break), we still get the exact same paycheck. Therefore, I was told, we will get an identical check (within a penny or two) every pay period for 22 pay periods. At the top of the pay stub, there's a little calculation noting actual hours worked, hours banked and gross "equalized" pay. Clearly, the gross equalized pay times 22 equals my gross pay for the year. Except that it doesn't. It's $600 short. Might not seem like much to you, but it's a fair bit of money to someone on a teacher's salary.
So I call Payroll. They tell me that I'm thinking about it wrong, and that I'm not accounting for equalization. I patiently ask if I'm supposed to get 22 equal paychecks. They say yes. I patiently ask if each paycheck is supposed to be for X amount (gross), which is what my first three paychecks were. They say yes. I patiently ask then, won't my total gross pay at the end of the year add up to 22X? They say it would. I patiently ask, then why is 22X less than the salary you told me I was making? They tell me I'm not accounting for equalization. I ask to speak to a supervisor. I get voice mail.
Today, I get a call back, and I go through the whole 22X thing, which he doesn't understand the first several times (really? no one has ever had this concern? no one has ever multiplied 22 times their gross pay and realized it's less than their supposed annual gross pay? how is that possible?). He starts with telling me I am not accounting for equalization, then agrees that's not the issue, only to come back to it later. But no matter, we finally agree that, at the end of the year, I should be able to add up all of my gross pay totals for each pay period and get my total annual salary. We also agree that 22X is less than my total annual salary, but that adding up each gross pay total for 22 pay periods should equal 22X. Then he remembers that the final paycheck won't be equalized. It will be for roughly 11 days' pay, instead of 9, which is what the equalized paychecks are for. The value of roughly two days' pay? $600.
The thing I find most incredible about all this is that no one has ever asked the question before. Can no one do math, even when it matters, like how much you're getting paid?
Friday, October 2, 2009
6 Down Addendum
The mini-assessment that I had to give to my kids today...
a) had at least one question for which the answer is, I believe, incorrect,
b) had been copied from a test which highlighted the correct answer in several cases, giving the kids the answers to 3 of the 9 questions, and
c) required the use of about 6 formulas, which are available to all students on the state-mandated end-of-year test, but are not included on the mini-assessment. So it's my responsibility to make sure the kids have the formulas they need. Except no one bothered to tell me that.
a) had at least one question for which the answer is, I believe, incorrect,
b) had been copied from a test which highlighted the correct answer in several cases, giving the kids the answers to 3 of the 9 questions, and
c) required the use of about 6 formulas, which are available to all students on the state-mandated end-of-year test, but are not included on the mini-assessment. So it's my responsibility to make sure the kids have the formulas they need. Except no one bothered to tell me that.
6 Down...
First, on the "in-classroom" front: I'm getting better, but I have an awfully long way to go. The career-changers group from my county who got me involved in this teaching thing has some support for the people in the program, which was a complete surprise to me when I got the email from Elaine, my "mentor/coach." She's been in my classroom twice, and unlike everyone else who's been in my classroom, has actually provided immediate, specific, constructive advice. I nearly teared up talking to her the first time, because she gave me some hope I could make this work.
Anyway, I've implemented essentially all the things I said I'd do differently if I had it to do over (except the parent-calling thing, which I am for some reason avoiding like the plague), and I'm not sure whether they're really having an effect, but I still think they're good ideas. Also, Elaine gave me (as noted above) some specific, concrete, implementable advice which I've tried to implement, which mostly positive results.
On the downside, I'm still letting kid behavior get to me, and some of them are figuring that out, and (I believe) intentionally trying to bait me. Unfortunately, they're relatively successful, too. I go in thinking "No matter what, today I will be calm and professional all day, even if I'm kicking some kid out of my room for refusing to shut up after 19 warnings," and then I blow up within 30 minutes.
I'm not sure I've outlined the issues I'm facing, but here's the data: I have about 175 kids in 6 classes. Of those, over 100 scored a 1 or a 2 on the state-mandated testing, which means that unless they improve, they can't graduate. And let me just say, it's not that tough to graduate from high school. The point being, over 100 of my students are, at least currently, academically incapable of understanding the material I'm supposed to be teaching. Fully 1/3 of my class struggles with subtracting one negative number from another... to the question "what is negative 7 minus negative 2" I get 9, 7, 5, 2, -2, -5, -7 and -9. The eight-year-old child who lives in the house where I've been staying can answer that question correctly, but 1/3 of my students cannot. Half cannot multiply 2/3 times 6 and get a number. Not "the correct number" - I mean any number. They stare at the problem as if it is written in sanskrit.
So these kids cannot really hope to understand a mathematical concept with any depth, so every time I begin speaking of such a concept, they tune out and begin engaging in off-task behavior, as we say in the trade. Some of the ones who could get it if they'd work at it have decided they aren't willing to feel stupid while trying to understand, so they don't try. Which means I spend hours every evening trying to develop exercises, projects, etc., that will keep them entertained while I try to teach math.
Meanwhile, the administration keeps pouring on new requirements and other restrictions. I do not have textbooks for the kids, so I have to deliver homework and classwork on worksheets. Except that we don't have enough money for the copy paper we need, so we run out of paper on about the 20th, not to be replenished until the 1st of the next month. So I have to put all the assignments on the board. Which doesn't seem like that big a deal until you actually try to get kids to do word problems and other explanation-heavy exercises by writing it on the board.
I found out yesterday I am supposed to fill out some form on each of my low-level students, explaining how I am going to differentiate instruction for them, and what they need to do to improve their score. Most teachers have 10 or 15 of these. I have over 100. As a "turnaround" school, we are also required to fill out daily lesson plans for each class that describes how that day's lesson will be differentiated for the various learning groups in the class... this is in addition to the boxes on the lesson plan that lay out objectives, essential questions, etc., etc.... none of which really helps me in figuring out how to get the kids interested and working. I also am supposed to be developing an interactive word wall (updated daily), a standards-based bulletin board, an updated-daily workshop model (including an agenda I am supposed to go over with the students each class period), an evidence folder which no one has ever explained to me what it is except that my lesson plans are supposed to be in it, a tardy list updated daily, a list of students who were absent in my class but were present in school (although no one has ever explained how I'm supposed to know they were in school), a collection of posters describing what is expected of students in various stituations (like group work, group instruction, etc.), a professional development plan for myself and a plan for how to deal with the 7 - 10 ELL or ESE kids in each of my classes (separate from differentiated instruction, which is for the non-ESE / ELL kids who are not getting the material).
Each day, in addition to the lesson plan, I am obligated by the district to develop an "instructional focus" which is entirely aimed at the state-mandated test the kids will take later in the year. For this, we are given sample problems, which we are supposed to teach to the kids. But the sample problems are typically long, and printed on at least 2 (usually 3) pages. But of course, I don't have copy paper to create a set for each of my students, and don't even really have enough to create a class set that all classes could use. With a class set, the kids would have to copy the question and answer to another sheet of paper, if they wanted to study it. Most importantly, the instructional focus is completely unrelated to anything I'm going to be talking about in class, so it's 20 - 25 minutes out of every class that the kids don't get, don't care about and can't even take effective notes on. Plus, I have to give the kids a benchmark assessment and 5 different mini-assessments in addition to the actual test, so at least 6 times each year (about once every 4 weeks for the first 24 weeks of the school year, I give a test that's of no value to the course I'm teaching. The kids are tested-out, and it's only October 2.
All of which is my way of saying this: my administration, the district and every performance incentive I am aware of is focused on things that are ancillary to teaching the subject I'm supposed to be teaching. No one in the administration of the school at which I teach has offered a single comment about how I might be able to become a better teacher of kids, whereas I've gotten numerous memos, reports, presentations and one-on-one conferences about all of the ancillary stuff. We've stopped focusing on the kids and started focusing on the measurable actions we can take that someone somewhere thinks might be related to academic success.
So it's a struggle. I think it will get better, but it's hard to imagine that teaching at a turnaround school could actually be fun.
Anyway, I've implemented essentially all the things I said I'd do differently if I had it to do over (except the parent-calling thing, which I am for some reason avoiding like the plague), and I'm not sure whether they're really having an effect, but I still think they're good ideas. Also, Elaine gave me (as noted above) some specific, concrete, implementable advice which I've tried to implement, which mostly positive results.
On the downside, I'm still letting kid behavior get to me, and some of them are figuring that out, and (I believe) intentionally trying to bait me. Unfortunately, they're relatively successful, too. I go in thinking "No matter what, today I will be calm and professional all day, even if I'm kicking some kid out of my room for refusing to shut up after 19 warnings," and then I blow up within 30 minutes.
I'm not sure I've outlined the issues I'm facing, but here's the data: I have about 175 kids in 6 classes. Of those, over 100 scored a 1 or a 2 on the state-mandated testing, which means that unless they improve, they can't graduate. And let me just say, it's not that tough to graduate from high school. The point being, over 100 of my students are, at least currently, academically incapable of understanding the material I'm supposed to be teaching. Fully 1/3 of my class struggles with subtracting one negative number from another... to the question "what is negative 7 minus negative 2" I get 9, 7, 5, 2, -2, -5, -7 and -9. The eight-year-old child who lives in the house where I've been staying can answer that question correctly, but 1/3 of my students cannot. Half cannot multiply 2/3 times 6 and get a number. Not "the correct number" - I mean any number. They stare at the problem as if it is written in sanskrit.
So these kids cannot really hope to understand a mathematical concept with any depth, so every time I begin speaking of such a concept, they tune out and begin engaging in off-task behavior, as we say in the trade. Some of the ones who could get it if they'd work at it have decided they aren't willing to feel stupid while trying to understand, so they don't try. Which means I spend hours every evening trying to develop exercises, projects, etc., that will keep them entertained while I try to teach math.
Meanwhile, the administration keeps pouring on new requirements and other restrictions. I do not have textbooks for the kids, so I have to deliver homework and classwork on worksheets. Except that we don't have enough money for the copy paper we need, so we run out of paper on about the 20th, not to be replenished until the 1st of the next month. So I have to put all the assignments on the board. Which doesn't seem like that big a deal until you actually try to get kids to do word problems and other explanation-heavy exercises by writing it on the board.
I found out yesterday I am supposed to fill out some form on each of my low-level students, explaining how I am going to differentiate instruction for them, and what they need to do to improve their score. Most teachers have 10 or 15 of these. I have over 100. As a "turnaround" school, we are also required to fill out daily lesson plans for each class that describes how that day's lesson will be differentiated for the various learning groups in the class... this is in addition to the boxes on the lesson plan that lay out objectives, essential questions, etc., etc.... none of which really helps me in figuring out how to get the kids interested and working. I also am supposed to be developing an interactive word wall (updated daily), a standards-based bulletin board, an updated-daily workshop model (including an agenda I am supposed to go over with the students each class period), an evidence folder which no one has ever explained to me what it is except that my lesson plans are supposed to be in it, a tardy list updated daily, a list of students who were absent in my class but were present in school (although no one has ever explained how I'm supposed to know they were in school), a collection of posters describing what is expected of students in various stituations (like group work, group instruction, etc.), a professional development plan for myself and a plan for how to deal with the 7 - 10 ELL or ESE kids in each of my classes (separate from differentiated instruction, which is for the non-ESE / ELL kids who are not getting the material).
Each day, in addition to the lesson plan, I am obligated by the district to develop an "instructional focus" which is entirely aimed at the state-mandated test the kids will take later in the year. For this, we are given sample problems, which we are supposed to teach to the kids. But the sample problems are typically long, and printed on at least 2 (usually 3) pages. But of course, I don't have copy paper to create a set for each of my students, and don't even really have enough to create a class set that all classes could use. With a class set, the kids would have to copy the question and answer to another sheet of paper, if they wanted to study it. Most importantly, the instructional focus is completely unrelated to anything I'm going to be talking about in class, so it's 20 - 25 minutes out of every class that the kids don't get, don't care about and can't even take effective notes on. Plus, I have to give the kids a benchmark assessment and 5 different mini-assessments in addition to the actual test, so at least 6 times each year (about once every 4 weeks for the first 24 weeks of the school year, I give a test that's of no value to the course I'm teaching. The kids are tested-out, and it's only October 2.
All of which is my way of saying this: my administration, the district and every performance incentive I am aware of is focused on things that are ancillary to teaching the subject I'm supposed to be teaching. No one in the administration of the school at which I teach has offered a single comment about how I might be able to become a better teacher of kids, whereas I've gotten numerous memos, reports, presentations and one-on-one conferences about all of the ancillary stuff. We've stopped focusing on the kids and started focusing on the measurable actions we can take that someone somewhere thinks might be related to academic success.
So it's a struggle. I think it will get better, but it's hard to imagine that teaching at a turnaround school could actually be fun.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Random Ideas
Talking with my youngest a few minutes ago gave me an idea for what I could do on the back wall of my room, which would be interesting and possibly even relevant to mathematics, although it's more graph theory than geometry...
Get every kid in each class to provide a head shot and indicate which kids among their classmates they know, and which they consider friends. Put the head shots in a circle on the wall, and use string or tape to connect the ones they know or are friends with.
Lots of issues I can see immediately with this (e.g., what to do about the 10 or so who drop and similar number who add the class well after the first week of school), but maybe there's something in there we could salvage.
KB's teacher, according to KB, makes note-taking "fun." (KB is in 5th grade.) She uses drawings to illustrate text (e.g., drawing a sandal when discussing the need to "flip-flop" some mathematical concept), word bubbles around new vocabulary, dramatizations of key points, etc. Not sure what to do with that, but I like the thought of illustrated notes.
Get every kid in each class to provide a head shot and indicate which kids among their classmates they know, and which they consider friends. Put the head shots in a circle on the wall, and use string or tape to connect the ones they know or are friends with.
Lots of issues I can see immediately with this (e.g., what to do about the 10 or so who drop and similar number who add the class well after the first week of school), but maybe there's something in there we could salvage.
KB's teacher, according to KB, makes note-taking "fun." (KB is in 5th grade.) She uses drawings to illustrate text (e.g., drawing a sandal when discussing the need to "flip-flop" some mathematical concept), word bubbles around new vocabulary, dramatizations of key points, etc. Not sure what to do with that, but I like the thought of illustrated notes.
4 Down...
I went home Tuesday afternoon convinced I was not going to make it through the month, much less the year. I'm not joking, even a little bit. Every class was impossible... no discipline, unwilling to work, unable to reduce 3/6 to lowest terms, etc. I yelled, I cajoled, I lost my cool, I did everything but break down into a quivering blob of congealed gravy, although if I could have figured out a way to make that happen, I would have, because it would have been preferable to continuing to stand in front of the kids and make an ass of myself.
I had no solutions, and all of the options suggested to me seemed like things either well beyond my capabilities or totally inconsistent with my personality. I spent all of Tuesday afternoon and evening wallowing in my misery, and much of Tuesday night trying to figure out what I could possibly do, given the situation I was in. Quitting isn't really an option, although I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to make it one. I woke up at about 2:30 AM and began working on Wednesday's lesson plans, and spent some time thinking about the flow of the class -- part of the problem is clearly that the kids are either spending too much time listening (or not listening) to me pontificate, or spending too much time in unproductive groups ignoring the work and chatting about, well, anything but math.
So Wednesday was one of the better days I've had, but I wasn't fooled -- my Wednesday classes are smaller and better disciplined... it's the Thursday classes that were to be the real test. I was, I admit, very nearly sick to my stomach thinking about getting up in front of the first class (by far the worst of the three) on Thursday. It wasn't perfect, but we got a lot done, they paid attention for the most part, and the other two classes were about the same. I ended the day thinking that, while I am clearly not the best teacher who ever lived, I'm not totally without hope.
And then I got cocky. Today (Friday) was pretty miserable, although not even on the same planet as Tuesday. So I still have a lot of work to do, particularly around building a plan for every minute of the class period.
Here are some things I would do differently if I could start school over today:
1. Require students to have a math binder, including tabs for homework, notes & classwork, test preview/review, instructional focus (the stuff they have to do at the beginning of each class to prepare for the state-mandated testing) and "tool box," consisting of all the formulae, shortcuts and other stuff that would be helpful to know at any time. Plus a vocabulary tab, for the content-specific vocabulary they need.
2. Check the binder regularly to ensure they're taking notes and doing the homework. I'd even give a test grade for this, because I think note-taking and doing homework is so critical to understanding. I have kids who don't know what they're doing and they're sitting there without anything in front of them. It drives me nuts, because they've convinced themselves they can't understand it, so why bother to write it down? But if they wrote it down, they'd have a chance to understand.
3. Actually buy into the "don't smile until after Christmas" advice. Not that I'd be able to pull it off, but I'd be a lot less "let's be friends" than I would be "this class is going to be hard and you're going to work your ass off to do well in it. If you show me effort, we'll get along fine, and if you act like you don't care or aren't willing to work, we're going to be butting heads all year." My big rule wouldn't be "show respect," it would be "show effort." The talkers and paper wad throwers and class disrupters aren't fundamentally disrespectful so much as they are checked out.
4. Give a very short (3 questions, 10 minutes) quiz on the last day we meet each week, completely based on the homework and classwork we've covered that week. Use that to check homework understanding.
5. Begin calling parents immediately when kids are tardy, unprepared or undisciplined.
6. Something else that I've forgotten, but I'll come back and edit it in when I remeber.
Obviously, I can (and plan to) implement a lot of this stuff now, but I sure wish I'd started it at the beginning. I hope I make it to next year, so I can try it then.
I had no solutions, and all of the options suggested to me seemed like things either well beyond my capabilities or totally inconsistent with my personality. I spent all of Tuesday afternoon and evening wallowing in my misery, and much of Tuesday night trying to figure out what I could possibly do, given the situation I was in. Quitting isn't really an option, although I spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to make it one. I woke up at about 2:30 AM and began working on Wednesday's lesson plans, and spent some time thinking about the flow of the class -- part of the problem is clearly that the kids are either spending too much time listening (or not listening) to me pontificate, or spending too much time in unproductive groups ignoring the work and chatting about, well, anything but math.
So Wednesday was one of the better days I've had, but I wasn't fooled -- my Wednesday classes are smaller and better disciplined... it's the Thursday classes that were to be the real test. I was, I admit, very nearly sick to my stomach thinking about getting up in front of the first class (by far the worst of the three) on Thursday. It wasn't perfect, but we got a lot done, they paid attention for the most part, and the other two classes were about the same. I ended the day thinking that, while I am clearly not the best teacher who ever lived, I'm not totally without hope.
And then I got cocky. Today (Friday) was pretty miserable, although not even on the same planet as Tuesday. So I still have a lot of work to do, particularly around building a plan for every minute of the class period.
Here are some things I would do differently if I could start school over today:
1. Require students to have a math binder, including tabs for homework, notes & classwork, test preview/review, instructional focus (the stuff they have to do at the beginning of each class to prepare for the state-mandated testing) and "tool box," consisting of all the formulae, shortcuts and other stuff that would be helpful to know at any time. Plus a vocabulary tab, for the content-specific vocabulary they need.
2. Check the binder regularly to ensure they're taking notes and doing the homework. I'd even give a test grade for this, because I think note-taking and doing homework is so critical to understanding. I have kids who don't know what they're doing and they're sitting there without anything in front of them. It drives me nuts, because they've convinced themselves they can't understand it, so why bother to write it down? But if they wrote it down, they'd have a chance to understand.
3. Actually buy into the "don't smile until after Christmas" advice. Not that I'd be able to pull it off, but I'd be a lot less "let's be friends" than I would be "this class is going to be hard and you're going to work your ass off to do well in it. If you show me effort, we'll get along fine, and if you act like you don't care or aren't willing to work, we're going to be butting heads all year." My big rule wouldn't be "show respect," it would be "show effort." The talkers and paper wad throwers and class disrupters aren't fundamentally disrespectful so much as they are checked out.
4. Give a very short (3 questions, 10 minutes) quiz on the last day we meet each week, completely based on the homework and classwork we've covered that week. Use that to check homework understanding.
5. Begin calling parents immediately when kids are tardy, unprepared or undisciplined.
6. Something else that I've forgotten, but I'll come back and edit it in when I remeber.
Obviously, I can (and plan to) implement a lot of this stuff now, but I sure wish I'd started it at the beginning. I hope I make it to next year, so I can try it then.
Quick Note on the Testing Referenced in the Last Post
The assessment tests we gave this week were a mess... First, we were supposed to give the tests on Monday and Tuesday, but couldn't because no one had been trained on the test reader, this big machine in the teacher's lounge that you have to run all the special answer sheets through, which grades them and sends the results to the district. Training was Tuesday afternoon, so we tested on Tuesday and Wednesday. The "training" consisted of the tech guy telling us to put the papers in this slot, punch a couple of buttons and wait for it to spit out the confirmation. Essentially as difficult as using a copy machine. Since virtually every teacher used it last year, the training was a total waste. (When I need to use it, I'm going to have one of the veteran teachers look over my shoulder to ensure I do it right, something I would have done regardless of whether I'd been trained.) However, I may never need to use it...
No one could figure out how to print my answer sheets, so I had to have all the kids write their answers on a sheet of paper, then grade them by hand. Meanwhile, all the other teachers had to print the answer sheets on their own printers because the main test reader and answer sheet printer was not networked to any of our computers. After grading them by hand, I had to code each response as a 1 for "correct" and 0 for "incorrect" and enter that code into a spreadsheet. The other teachers ran their answer sheets through the test reader to have the coding done automatically. Except it didn't work. So now every math and reading teacher in the school has to hand-grade the answer sheets and hand-enter the responses into the same spreadsheet I did. It turns out I was the lucky one, because grading the gridded response answers is actually very hard.
No one knows why the test reader didn't work, so there's a very good chance we'll all need to do this again in October. Twice, because we test every 4 weeks.
No one could figure out how to print my answer sheets, so I had to have all the kids write their answers on a sheet of paper, then grade them by hand. Meanwhile, all the other teachers had to print the answer sheets on their own printers because the main test reader and answer sheet printer was not networked to any of our computers. After grading them by hand, I had to code each response as a 1 for "correct" and 0 for "incorrect" and enter that code into a spreadsheet. The other teachers ran their answer sheets through the test reader to have the coding done automatically. Except it didn't work. So now every math and reading teacher in the school has to hand-grade the answer sheets and hand-enter the responses into the same spreadsheet I did. It turns out I was the lucky one, because grading the gridded response answers is actually very hard.
No one knows why the test reader didn't work, so there's a very good chance we'll all need to do this again in October. Twice, because we test every 4 weeks.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
3 Down...
So here's what happened this week, in reverse chronological order:
At about 2 PM on Friday, I wandered into Mrs. CowCulus's room to ask if there was anything I needed to know about the Focus Assessment that I was supposed to giving to my students in each class on Monday and Tuesday. Mrs. CowCulus wasn't there, but her faithful sidekick Mrs. D. was, feverishly attempting to get something done on Mrs. CowCulus's computer. (More about Mrs. D, a truly wonderful woman, and the very fun relationship she and Mrs. CowCulus have -- both long-time teachers at MHS.)
Interrupting her mid-stream (which I would ordinarily feel bad about, but the only way to speak with Mrs. D is to interrupt whatever she's doing -- I've never yet witnessed an occasion she wasn't grading papers, working on a lesson plan, making up a quiz, etc.), I asked her about the Focus Assessment. (This is part of the turnaround plan for MHS -- all 9th and 10th graders get 15 minutes of instruction each math class on some topic that will appear on the standarized, state-mandated test, then an assessment on those topics every 3 weeks or so. Don't get me started (again) on the value of that.) Anyway, she lets me know she's attempting to print the tests and answer sheets for her class.
"Um, so am I supposed to do the same thing for my classes?"
"Yes."
"Um, it's 2 PM on Friday... is this something somebody told me already and I just forgot about, or is it something no one happened to mention?"
"Well, I haven't seen any emails about it, except for the one giving us the dates. But last year we had to print the exams, so I was trying to remember how to do that."
"So... these exams won't show up Monday morning like the Benchmark assessment did this week?" (Another long story, but that was earlier in the week, and thus later in this blog, possibly.)
"No."
"Hmm..."
"And of course, you'll need different tests for the 9th graders and 10th graders."
"What about my 11th and 12th graders?"
"They don't take it."
"So I need something for them to do also? I guess I would have figured that out on my own at some point. Any chance anyone was planning to tell me any of this, you know, before Monday?" (Given that we were 15 minutes from the weekend at that point, the answer to this question is clearly "no.")
There's more to this conversation, most of which is distinctly R-rated. At some point, Mrs. CowCulus came back in and informed us that in order for anyone to print the exams, they had to be trained on the system. Therefore, we were pushing the assessment back to Tuesday and Wednesday, with training on Monday. Moments after she sends this email, the technology coordinator sends an email stating the training will be on Tuesday. Stay tuned.
Of course, I am again left wondering whether the administration has any idea that there are teachers in the classroom who have no idea what they're supposed to do to make any of these things happen. What if I had actually been working (say, grading some of those 400 papers I need to finish before Monday at 7:30 AM), and hadn't run into Mrs. D to ask?
OK... I actually have to attend to my certification class now. Possibly I'll get back to the week past, in order to avoid grading all those looming papers.
At about 2 PM on Friday, I wandered into Mrs. CowCulus's room to ask if there was anything I needed to know about the Focus Assessment that I was supposed to giving to my students in each class on Monday and Tuesday. Mrs. CowCulus wasn't there, but her faithful sidekick Mrs. D. was, feverishly attempting to get something done on Mrs. CowCulus's computer. (More about Mrs. D, a truly wonderful woman, and the very fun relationship she and Mrs. CowCulus have -- both long-time teachers at MHS.)
Interrupting her mid-stream (which I would ordinarily feel bad about, but the only way to speak with Mrs. D is to interrupt whatever she's doing -- I've never yet witnessed an occasion she wasn't grading papers, working on a lesson plan, making up a quiz, etc.), I asked her about the Focus Assessment. (This is part of the turnaround plan for MHS -- all 9th and 10th graders get 15 minutes of instruction each math class on some topic that will appear on the standarized, state-mandated test, then an assessment on those topics every 3 weeks or so. Don't get me started (again) on the value of that.) Anyway, she lets me know she's attempting to print the tests and answer sheets for her class.
"Um, so am I supposed to do the same thing for my classes?"
"Yes."
"Um, it's 2 PM on Friday... is this something somebody told me already and I just forgot about, or is it something no one happened to mention?"
"Well, I haven't seen any emails about it, except for the one giving us the dates. But last year we had to print the exams, so I was trying to remember how to do that."
"So... these exams won't show up Monday morning like the Benchmark assessment did this week?" (Another long story, but that was earlier in the week, and thus later in this blog, possibly.)
"No."
"Hmm..."
"And of course, you'll need different tests for the 9th graders and 10th graders."
"What about my 11th and 12th graders?"
"They don't take it."
"So I need something for them to do also? I guess I would have figured that out on my own at some point. Any chance anyone was planning to tell me any of this, you know, before Monday?" (Given that we were 15 minutes from the weekend at that point, the answer to this question is clearly "no.")
There's more to this conversation, most of which is distinctly R-rated. At some point, Mrs. CowCulus came back in and informed us that in order for anyone to print the exams, they had to be trained on the system. Therefore, we were pushing the assessment back to Tuesday and Wednesday, with training on Monday. Moments after she sends this email, the technology coordinator sends an email stating the training will be on Tuesday. Stay tuned.
Of course, I am again left wondering whether the administration has any idea that there are teachers in the classroom who have no idea what they're supposed to do to make any of these things happen. What if I had actually been working (say, grading some of those 400 papers I need to finish before Monday at 7:30 AM), and hadn't run into Mrs. D to ask?
OK... I actually have to attend to my certification class now. Possibly I'll get back to the week past, in order to avoid grading all those looming papers.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Tuesday's Gone
Train roll on, on down the line,
Won't you please take me far away?
-- Opening lines of "Tuesday's Gone," by Lynyrd Skynyrd
So the situation is this: at least 20% of my students are ESE (i.e., special needs) or ESOL (non-native English speakers). Statistically speaking, 50% of my students won't graduate, and a lot of them already know who they are, because they're juniors or seniors, re-taking Algebra II and / or Geometry. They believe they can't do this work, because they've tried before and failed (or not tried and failed...), and they'd rather be anywhere on earth but the math class.
I gave a very, very basic Algebra I skills assessment today, and the median score was 7 out of 20. Meaning that, if I were teaching Algebra I and grading the way it's presumably supposed to be graded, roughly 70% of my class would fail. Not just fail Algebra I. But fail the early, basic elements of Algebra I. Algebra I. Unfortunately, I'm teaching Algebra II and Geometry, which means they not only have already passed Algebra I, they NEED Algebra I as the foundation on which to build the stuff I'm presumably trying to teach them. It's absolutely no wonder why I'm having difficulty holding their attention -- the moment I put an equation on the board with a variable in it, they're lost.
OK, that's a reality I need to deal with. I can deal with the skills issue. I can drill, I can do mini/focus lessons on Algebra I skills, I can hold after-school help sessions (not that anyone showed up when I offered today)... whatever. But I can't do that stuff if the people who are bored or uninterested or completely lost are disrupting the rest of the class.
I decided today that the main thing I need to do is to look at every new day as a new opportunity to get it right.
Won't you please take me far away?
-- Opening lines of "Tuesday's Gone," by Lynyrd Skynyrd
So the situation is this: at least 20% of my students are ESE (i.e., special needs) or ESOL (non-native English speakers). Statistically speaking, 50% of my students won't graduate, and a lot of them already know who they are, because they're juniors or seniors, re-taking Algebra II and / or Geometry. They believe they can't do this work, because they've tried before and failed (or not tried and failed...), and they'd rather be anywhere on earth but the math class.
I gave a very, very basic Algebra I skills assessment today, and the median score was 7 out of 20. Meaning that, if I were teaching Algebra I and grading the way it's presumably supposed to be graded, roughly 70% of my class would fail. Not just fail Algebra I. But fail the early, basic elements of Algebra I. Algebra I. Unfortunately, I'm teaching Algebra II and Geometry, which means they not only have already passed Algebra I, they NEED Algebra I as the foundation on which to build the stuff I'm presumably trying to teach them. It's absolutely no wonder why I'm having difficulty holding their attention -- the moment I put an equation on the board with a variable in it, they're lost.
OK, that's a reality I need to deal with. I can deal with the skills issue. I can drill, I can do mini/focus lessons on Algebra I skills, I can hold after-school help sessions (not that anyone showed up when I offered today)... whatever. But I can't do that stuff if the people who are bored or uninterested or completely lost are disrupting the rest of the class.
I decided today that the main thing I need to do is to look at every new day as a new opportunity to get it right.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Labor Day Weekend
Update: The starting quarterback for the mighty MHS team was tossed from the game late in the first half for throwing a punch at a player who hit him out-of-bounds, and the second stringer is apparently a one-dimensional running quarterback. So MHS squandered a 16 - 0 halftime lead (in which the starting QB was 4 for 5, 115 yards) to lose 22 - 16. Bummer. MHS had at least 4 unnecessary roughness penalties. One wonders what practice will be like next week... I know I wouldn't want to be there.
Meanwhile, it's 10AM and I've done three loads of laundry, gone out for breakfast and read the paper, run all my errands for the weekend (needed a yardstick, whiteboard cleaner, markers, and groceries) and, were it not for doing this blog entry, I would have started my lesson plans for next week. Working 6:30AM to 2:30PM makes for an interesting daily rhythm.
Meanwhile, it's 10AM and I've done three loads of laundry, gone out for breakfast and read the paper, run all my errands for the weekend (needed a yardstick, whiteboard cleaner, markers, and groceries) and, were it not for doing this blog entry, I would have started my lesson plans for next week. Working 6:30AM to 2:30PM makes for an interesting daily rhythm.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Friday Night Lights
I went to my first high school football game in a long, long time tonight. I left in the 3rd quarter, but the good guys were winning 16 - 6. Go, Home Team!
Anyway, it was fun to walk around and see the kids being kids, with boy- or girlfriends and hanging out or tossing a ball around or whatever, and not feel any need to monitor their behavior or want them to be doing something different. A surprising number of my students said hello, although a few studiously avoided looking at me as they passed. Hey, I wouldn't have wanted to chat with my high school teachers at a football game either. (Well, actually, I had an English teacher who I remember as something of a babe, so I guess I would have wanted to hang out with her. But you get the point.)
Meanwhile, my first two classes today were just miserable. Couldn't get them to focus, couldn't get them to shut up, etc. We had a pep rally (tonight was the first game of the season) during 2nd period, and I guess everyone was feeling frisky, especially with the long weekend coming up. Regardless, it was no fun. Third period, however, went very well... sort of what I was imagining my classes would be like, back before I got in front of actual students in an actual class. So maybe it's doable. Plus, amazingly, I got kudos both from the department head (Mrs. CowCulus) and the principal. He said really nice things to me about how good he thought I was, which I sincerely appreciated, but had to wonder about -- the only classroom visit I've had was from the AP for a few minutes, and her key finding was that the room was substandard. So how could Mrs. CowCulus and the principal really have any idea if I'm any good? I actually asked Mrs. CowCulus that question, and she said that I'm asking all the right questions, showing that I know what I should be thinking about. Okay, but doesn't execution count, too? Whatever... I'll take the kudos. I need'em.
The principal also asked me what I needed, and I said "two months." I really just hope that I haven't lost the class by the time I get good enough to actually teach them something.
Anyway, it was fun to walk around and see the kids being kids, with boy- or girlfriends and hanging out or tossing a ball around or whatever, and not feel any need to monitor their behavior or want them to be doing something different. A surprising number of my students said hello, although a few studiously avoided looking at me as they passed. Hey, I wouldn't have wanted to chat with my high school teachers at a football game either. (Well, actually, I had an English teacher who I remember as something of a babe, so I guess I would have wanted to hang out with her. But you get the point.)
Meanwhile, my first two classes today were just miserable. Couldn't get them to focus, couldn't get them to shut up, etc. We had a pep rally (tonight was the first game of the season) during 2nd period, and I guess everyone was feeling frisky, especially with the long weekend coming up. Regardless, it was no fun. Third period, however, went very well... sort of what I was imagining my classes would be like, back before I got in front of actual students in an actual class. So maybe it's doable. Plus, amazingly, I got kudos both from the department head (Mrs. CowCulus) and the principal. He said really nice things to me about how good he thought I was, which I sincerely appreciated, but had to wonder about -- the only classroom visit I've had was from the AP for a few minutes, and her key finding was that the room was substandard. So how could Mrs. CowCulus and the principal really have any idea if I'm any good? I actually asked Mrs. CowCulus that question, and she said that I'm asking all the right questions, showing that I know what I should be thinking about. Okay, but doesn't execution count, too? Whatever... I'll take the kudos. I need'em.
The principal also asked me what I needed, and I said "two months." I really just hope that I haven't lost the class by the time I get good enough to actually teach them something.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Round 2
So I met with the restless, relatively unruly class today. Not really much better, but there are some things I can do that can make it work, I think. I had a bit of a "come to Jesus" meeting with them, talking about the fact that I'm not going to put up with constant chatter, half a dozen kids having to go to the bathroom, unresponsiveness, etc., and that I was willing to work on ways to make the subject and the discussion more engaging, but that they were going to have to work on ways to get what they needed out of the class, and they were going to have to settle down and pay attention.
Maybe the thing that's most frustrating is that I have no idea if I'm any good or not. No one, other than the kids, has ever seen me teach.
But hey, my word wall is nice, so I got that going for me.
Maybe the thing that's most frustrating is that I have no idea if I'm any good or not. No one, other than the kids, has ever seen me teach.
But hey, my word wall is nice, so I got that going for me.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
And Now for Something Completely Different
My final class of the day yesterday was incredibly restless -- the ones who weren't trying to sleep were talking, attempting to surreptitiously text or, I don't know, play video games under their desks. Finally, one young lady spoke up, asking if there was any way I could make this stuff more interesting.
A dagger to my heart, in any number of ways. I think this stuff is riveting, of course, and more fun than tournament Foosball. More importantly, I think I'm just about as funny and interesting while discussing mathematics as Tom Cruise on the Oprah Show. Apparently my students disagree.
I've had trouble keeping this group's attention, regardless of the flow of the lesson - short groupwork periods punctuated by mini-lessons, long lecture followed by long groupwork, mini-lesson plus directed class discussion... whatever, I can't keep them awake. So the young lady mentioned another teacher's style, and could I give that a try. I spoke to the teacher in question and he's using something called "Power Teaching" by Chris Biffle. I've looked at the videos and, well, it ain't me, babe. That said, I can certainly incorporate a key principle or two of what he's talking about -- (1) micro-lessons (30 seconds or less) (2) active student engagement -- they must participate, and (3) learn, pair, share - after I teach it, they turn and teach it to their neighbor.
Now I gotta figure out how to make that work...
A dagger to my heart, in any number of ways. I think this stuff is riveting, of course, and more fun than tournament Foosball. More importantly, I think I'm just about as funny and interesting while discussing mathematics as Tom Cruise on the Oprah Show. Apparently my students disagree.
I've had trouble keeping this group's attention, regardless of the flow of the lesson - short groupwork periods punctuated by mini-lessons, long lecture followed by long groupwork, mini-lesson plus directed class discussion... whatever, I can't keep them awake. So the young lady mentioned another teacher's style, and could I give that a try. I spoke to the teacher in question and he's using something called "Power Teaching" by Chris Biffle. I've looked at the videos and, well, it ain't me, babe. That said, I can certainly incorporate a key principle or two of what he's talking about -- (1) micro-lessons (30 seconds or less) (2) active student engagement -- they must participate, and (3) learn, pair, share - after I teach it, they turn and teach it to their neighbor.
Now I gotta figure out how to make that work...
Teach-by-Number
MHS is a "turnaround" school, meaning... well, I'm not sure exactly what that means, except that the students have not scored well or improved on the state-mandated tests for the past few years, and thus we're in a special category. There is a miniscule amount of additional money attached to being a turnaround school, like having a full-time English coach rather than half-time. However, there are apparently dozens of additional requirements, including one that requires all teachers of 9th- and 10th-graders to spend "10- to 15-minutes" each class period going over questions of the type that may appear on the State Assessment. These are called "Focus Questions."
[The following couple of paragraphs are an aside, and constitute a rant about how much paper I'm allowed to use. I'm not kidding - I have a paper allotment.] The Focus Question forms are designed to be used as handouts, allowing the kids to mark on them in the same way they'd mark on the State Assessment (e.g., filling in the bubble for the letter of the correct answer and doing "gridded response," which is something I am incapable of describing in less than 600 words). But the forms are typically two pages long, and I have 175 students in 6 classes over two days. So in a week, I would go through over 1000 copies and 500 sheets of paper, even if I copy the form two-sided. I'm presumably alloted 1000 copies per month, so if I do it the way I'm supposed to, I will have gone through my entire allotment in a single week. Even if I'm actually alloted 1000 pieces of paper (rather than copies), I'm done in two weeks.
Of course, I also don't have any textbooks for 145 of those students, so if I want to assign homework, I need to give them a worksheet. Assume I give homework every night, but I manage to squeeze all the questions onto a half-sheet of paper. I'm using another 35 sheets of paper a day, or 750 a month. Want to give a quiz? That's 175 sheets. A test? At least 350 sheets. Semesters are 9 weeks long, and I'm told we should give about 3 tests and maybe 3 quizzes. 1500 sheets of paper over 2 months. Want to send a letter and your syllabus home to the parents? 500 copies on 350 sheets of paper. Hand out your rules and regulations, policies and procedures? Another 350 sheets of paper. In a typical month, I would reasonably go through 5,500 copies (on about 3,000 sheets of paper).
One reasonable solution would be to project the State Assessment form onto the whiteboard using my laptop. Except that we have no LCD projectors for the math department. (There are 24 in the school, but they're all allocated to Reading.) I've tried using overheads, but they can not be seen in the back of the room. So I've been writing the questions on the whiteboard "before" each class. The "before" is in quotes because I typically finish writing the questions at about 5 minutes past the bell. The students, meanwhile, have been milling about in the classroom during this time, waiting to get started. I'd leave them up for the next class (the questions, not the kids), but I don't have enough whiteboard space to do that, largely because all my spare whiteboard space is consumed by the "workshop model" and "standards-based" instruction stuff that must be up and visible in all areas of the room. Why the students need to know we're working on standard A.1.9934.BC.2 "Using geometric forms to... blah, blah, blah..." is something no one has even attempted to explain, but is nonetheless state-mandated for "turnaround" schools.
Anyway, going through the Focus Questions actually takes about 25 minutes, so if you include the extra 5 minutes at the beginning of the period, I'm using 30 of my 90 minutes on ancillary stuff. If I thought it would be helpful, I'd probably be okay with it. But it's truly ancillary -- it bears no connection to what I'm teaching, and I'm not allowed to change it in any way to conform. So these kids, who are already confused by trying to understand the math I'm supposed to be teaching, are now getting bombarded by new stuff that doesn't fit in anywhere. It's inconceivable to me that this isn't just more confusing, rather than helpful. And I can't find anyone who disagrees. (Not that I've been asking anyone else -- in fact, the only questions I've asked about these Focus Questions is how I should present them. Of course, the moment I ask, I get a 10 minute harrangue about how nuts they are.) But tomorrow morning, I'll be at it again, discussing the Focus Questions.
So I've spent a week-and-a-half trying to meet the state and county mandates for word walls, workshop models, Focus Questions, Lesson Plans, etc. Fine. I can live with that. But I'm getting up at 4 in the morning and leaving the school at 4:30 in the afternoon, and in all of that time, I'm spending about 45 minutes each day working on what I'm actually going to teach in my subject area. That can't be good.
[The following couple of paragraphs are an aside, and constitute a rant about how much paper I'm allowed to use. I'm not kidding - I have a paper allotment.] The Focus Question forms are designed to be used as handouts, allowing the kids to mark on them in the same way they'd mark on the State Assessment (e.g., filling in the bubble for the letter of the correct answer and doing "gridded response," which is something I am incapable of describing in less than 600 words). But the forms are typically two pages long, and I have 175 students in 6 classes over two days. So in a week, I would go through over 1000 copies and 500 sheets of paper, even if I copy the form two-sided. I'm presumably alloted 1000 copies per month, so if I do it the way I'm supposed to, I will have gone through my entire allotment in a single week. Even if I'm actually alloted 1000 pieces of paper (rather than copies), I'm done in two weeks.
Of course, I also don't have any textbooks for 145 of those students, so if I want to assign homework, I need to give them a worksheet. Assume I give homework every night, but I manage to squeeze all the questions onto a half-sheet of paper. I'm using another 35 sheets of paper a day, or 750 a month. Want to give a quiz? That's 175 sheets. A test? At least 350 sheets. Semesters are 9 weeks long, and I'm told we should give about 3 tests and maybe 3 quizzes. 1500 sheets of paper over 2 months. Want to send a letter and your syllabus home to the parents? 500 copies on 350 sheets of paper. Hand out your rules and regulations, policies and procedures? Another 350 sheets of paper. In a typical month, I would reasonably go through 5,500 copies (on about 3,000 sheets of paper).
One reasonable solution would be to project the State Assessment form onto the whiteboard using my laptop. Except that we have no LCD projectors for the math department. (There are 24 in the school, but they're all allocated to Reading.) I've tried using overheads, but they can not be seen in the back of the room. So I've been writing the questions on the whiteboard "before" each class. The "before" is in quotes because I typically finish writing the questions at about 5 minutes past the bell. The students, meanwhile, have been milling about in the classroom during this time, waiting to get started. I'd leave them up for the next class (the questions, not the kids), but I don't have enough whiteboard space to do that, largely because all my spare whiteboard space is consumed by the "workshop model" and "standards-based" instruction stuff that must be up and visible in all areas of the room. Why the students need to know we're working on standard A.1.9934.BC.2 "Using geometric forms to... blah, blah, blah..." is something no one has even attempted to explain, but is nonetheless state-mandated for "turnaround" schools.
Anyway, going through the Focus Questions actually takes about 25 minutes, so if you include the extra 5 minutes at the beginning of the period, I'm using 30 of my 90 minutes on ancillary stuff. If I thought it would be helpful, I'd probably be okay with it. But it's truly ancillary -- it bears no connection to what I'm teaching, and I'm not allowed to change it in any way to conform. So these kids, who are already confused by trying to understand the math I'm supposed to be teaching, are now getting bombarded by new stuff that doesn't fit in anywhere. It's inconceivable to me that this isn't just more confusing, rather than helpful. And I can't find anyone who disagrees. (Not that I've been asking anyone else -- in fact, the only questions I've asked about these Focus Questions is how I should present them. Of course, the moment I ask, I get a 10 minute harrangue about how nuts they are.) But tomorrow morning, I'll be at it again, discussing the Focus Questions.
So I've spent a week-and-a-half trying to meet the state and county mandates for word walls, workshop models, Focus Questions, Lesson Plans, etc. Fine. I can live with that. But I'm getting up at 4 in the morning and leaving the school at 4:30 in the afternoon, and in all of that time, I'm spending about 45 minutes each day working on what I'm actually going to teach in my subject area. That can't be good.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Follow Up to Week 1
I was gchatting with my daughter regarding the week that was, and she asked what I'd do about the issues I saw with being a first-time teacher. I'm not sure I know the answer, but here's what I told her. I really just want to get these down so I can think about them if the time ever comes to volunteer to help the newbies -- at least I'll know what I thought I needed then.
1. much, much better orientation program at the school level, with a procedures manual on all the stuff you have to do, forms to complete, issues you need to know about, people you need to know (e.g., the tech guy to set up your computer), etc. [I may have mentioned in this space that I was keeping track of things I wish I'd known about earlier... I was up to about 25 separate items, at last count.]
2. much more formalized mentoring program -- every day or every other day debriefing with your mentor -- "what happened today you weren't expecting; what did you feel you weren't prepared for?" with answers or opinions on what to do.
3. probably (i'd need to think about this) day 1 and day 2 have one administrator or another sit in on your classes and observe start to finish... give you a top to bottom critique (emphasizing the positive, of course) but pointing out what you need to do differently.
Maybe some schools or most schools or even all schools except for MHS do this, but it's for damn sure MHS doesn't. And I don't get the impression any of the teachers here were surprised it wasn't happening, which means it isn't just because of the new administration here.
1. much, much better orientation program at the school level, with a procedures manual on all the stuff you have to do, forms to complete, issues you need to know about, people you need to know (e.g., the tech guy to set up your computer), etc. [I may have mentioned in this space that I was keeping track of things I wish I'd known about earlier... I was up to about 25 separate items, at last count.]
2. much more formalized mentoring program -- every day or every other day debriefing with your mentor -- "what happened today you weren't expecting; what did you feel you weren't prepared for?" with answers or opinions on what to do.
3. probably (i'd need to think about this) day 1 and day 2 have one administrator or another sit in on your classes and observe start to finish... give you a top to bottom critique (emphasizing the positive, of course) but pointing out what you need to do differently.
Maybe some schools or most schools or even all schools except for MHS do this, but it's for damn sure MHS doesn't. And I don't get the impression any of the teachers here were surprised it wasn't happening, which means it isn't just because of the new administration here.
Sidney Poitier I'm Not
Well, I've survived my first week of school. It is very strange to be in a position in which I feel truly incompetent... I'm not sure I've ever been in a job I was less well-prepared for. I have to shoulder some of that blame, but the truth is that no first-time teacher in the world -- especially those who haven't done any student teaching -- could possibly be prepared for the reality of the job. Not that there is anything in the job that is beyond my skill set (I don't think), but that there are a million little things a teacher needs to do and ways he needs to act in order to be able to clear the decks for actual teaching. Plus, there are a million strategies the teacher must have for all of the different teaching situations he will face -- kids who have no math skills but want to work hard, kids who have good math skills but don't want to work at all, kids with good math skills but who don't speak English and thus can't understand what you're saying, kids with bad math skills and bad English skills, kids who are bored and need to be stimulated by more interesting material than is being offered, kids who are bored because the material being taught is too hard and they've tuned out, kids who have good skills but need to digest information slowly, etc., etc., etc., etc., etc... well, you get the picture. That's just relative to student-teacher interaction.
Then there are the unbelievable peripheral requirements -- "word walls" to be updated daily with new vocabulary from the course, "standards-based" charts on the wall to show students what will be covered that day and what State Educational Standard the day's lesson is directed toward, "Workshop Model" charts to show the flow of the instruction (lecture to small group work to class discussion to summary, for example), lesson plans that must conform to a specific format, including a listing of the Standards to be taught, the objective of the day's lesson and essential questions the student should be able to answer at the conclusion of the lesson, forms to be filed for how you are differentiating your instruction for "special needs" students and students who don't speak English, and others I've forgotten in the haze of the past week.
Good teachers, from what I can see, have found ways to implement processes that reduce the time required for the peripheral stuff to a bare minimum -- maybe an hour or two a day. They also have processes and mannerisms and little tricks to keep their classroom running smoothly, reducing the amount of policework they have to do, and dramatically reducing the thought they have to put into how to run the classroom. This frees them up to mostly teach, and some of them are very good at it. Some are less good, but the truth is, the bad teachers are not the ones who can't teach (there aren't many of those), the bad teachers are the ones who can't control the classroom or who can't manage the peripheral stuff so that it doesn't impinge on their ability to put together a good lesson. The great teachers are the ones who manage to get all that done and still find time to add some special flair that ignites a flame in some kid to do more, and accomplish more, than he otherwise would have.
I have a considerable mountain to climb, no single step of which seems particularly difficult, but the whole of which is, at the very least, daunting.
Then there are the unbelievable peripheral requirements -- "word walls" to be updated daily with new vocabulary from the course, "standards-based" charts on the wall to show students what will be covered that day and what State Educational Standard the day's lesson is directed toward, "Workshop Model" charts to show the flow of the instruction (lecture to small group work to class discussion to summary, for example), lesson plans that must conform to a specific format, including a listing of the Standards to be taught, the objective of the day's lesson and essential questions the student should be able to answer at the conclusion of the lesson, forms to be filed for how you are differentiating your instruction for "special needs" students and students who don't speak English, and others I've forgotten in the haze of the past week.
Good teachers, from what I can see, have found ways to implement processes that reduce the time required for the peripheral stuff to a bare minimum -- maybe an hour or two a day. They also have processes and mannerisms and little tricks to keep their classroom running smoothly, reducing the amount of policework they have to do, and dramatically reducing the thought they have to put into how to run the classroom. This frees them up to mostly teach, and some of them are very good at it. Some are less good, but the truth is, the bad teachers are not the ones who can't teach (there aren't many of those), the bad teachers are the ones who can't control the classroom or who can't manage the peripheral stuff so that it doesn't impinge on their ability to put together a good lesson. The great teachers are the ones who manage to get all that done and still find time to add some special flair that ignites a flame in some kid to do more, and accomplish more, than he otherwise would have.
I have a considerable mountain to climb, no single step of which seems particularly difficult, but the whole of which is, at the very least, daunting.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Reality Bites
It's incredibly hard. And I'm totally exhausted and overwhelmed. I feel as if I'm trying to lay down track in front of a freight train, currently barreling down the track I've already laid. It's about 100 yards behind me, traveling at about 80 miles an hour. Judgment day is coming, and right soon.
I got a classroom visit today from my Assistant Principal, and she didn't say much of anything in the 20 minutes she sat and observed. She then left and went to Ms. CowCulus's room. As noted earlier, Ms. CowCulus is the head of the math department, and is, I am confident, a kindergarten teacher reincarnated as a high school math teacher. She's very good -- she was MHS's teacher of the year recently, but her room is awash in posters and sayings and cutouts and word walls and decorative borders and cute wall hangings that have pockets for the calculators the students use and... and... and... So the AP (that's Assistant Principal to you -- public schools apparently acronym-ize absolutely everything, then change all the acronyms roughly every 4 years, just to keep everyone confused. Remember ESL (English as a Second Language)? Now it's ESOL (English for Speakers of Other Language) and occasionally ELL (English Language Learners). Anyway, the AP says to Ms. CowCulus... "Maybe you could help out Mr. Math Guy. His room needs a little help." For what it's worth, Ms. CowCulus later told me the AP didn't come down too hard on me, but I'm pretty sure the AP was trying to avoid piling on -- I'm already a haggard, twitchy wreck.
The stuff we have to do to meet state requirements, in the way of lesson plans, standards-based learning / testing, etc., is a nightmare, if you don't have a base from which to build, which of course I don't. I really can't do justice to all the paperwork and planning that I'm obligated to do. But the coldest slap in the face has been the amazing lack of math skills among my Algebra II and Geometry students. Algebra I, I could kind of understand, but these kids have presumably all passed Algebra I. The Algebra II kids have also passed Geometry (except for one young lady who is a senior and failed Geometry, and now has the great good fortune to have me for both Geometry and Algebra II. She told me on the first day that she hates math and she is terrible at it, and that nothing I say is going to convince her otherwise. Perhaps if she actually paid attention in class she might get more out of it, though...
Meanwhile, I had a kid yesterday look at me with a completely innocent, totally bewildered look when I asked her to finish solving the equation -2 + 7. It was as if I had asked her to add e raised to the i-th power and pi raised to the square root of 5. I spent an hour today going over the equation of a line. Example: "Okay, class, y=mx+b is the slope-intercept form: m is the slope, and b is the y-intercept. Now, suppose I tell you that the slope of the line is 3, and the y-intercept is 4. What is the equation of the line?" Blank stares. "Okay, well, in this equation, y=mx+b, m is the slope. So if the slope is 3, we get y=_x + b. What goes in the blank?" And so on. I am okay with going slowly through things, and explaining them in a number of different ways so that perhaps one will click. But while I'm explaining how to find the slope from two points ('rise over run') for the 7th time in the 6th different way, what are the kids who got it the first time doing? Aren't I doing the ones who already get this stuff a disservice by holding them back from learning more?
Anyway, it's an adventure. Each day, the first period is a real struggle, and I find my way a little bit better throughout the day. Still, I wonder if anyone will actually learn any geometry this year.
I got a classroom visit today from my Assistant Principal, and she didn't say much of anything in the 20 minutes she sat and observed. She then left and went to Ms. CowCulus's room. As noted earlier, Ms. CowCulus is the head of the math department, and is, I am confident, a kindergarten teacher reincarnated as a high school math teacher. She's very good -- she was MHS's teacher of the year recently, but her room is awash in posters and sayings and cutouts and word walls and decorative borders and cute wall hangings that have pockets for the calculators the students use and... and... and... So the AP (that's Assistant Principal to you -- public schools apparently acronym-ize absolutely everything, then change all the acronyms roughly every 4 years, just to keep everyone confused. Remember ESL (English as a Second Language)? Now it's ESOL (English for Speakers of Other Language) and occasionally ELL (English Language Learners). Anyway, the AP says to Ms. CowCulus... "Maybe you could help out Mr. Math Guy. His room needs a little help." For what it's worth, Ms. CowCulus later told me the AP didn't come down too hard on me, but I'm pretty sure the AP was trying to avoid piling on -- I'm already a haggard, twitchy wreck.
The stuff we have to do to meet state requirements, in the way of lesson plans, standards-based learning / testing, etc., is a nightmare, if you don't have a base from which to build, which of course I don't. I really can't do justice to all the paperwork and planning that I'm obligated to do. But the coldest slap in the face has been the amazing lack of math skills among my Algebra II and Geometry students. Algebra I, I could kind of understand, but these kids have presumably all passed Algebra I. The Algebra II kids have also passed Geometry (except for one young lady who is a senior and failed Geometry, and now has the great good fortune to have me for both Geometry and Algebra II. She told me on the first day that she hates math and she is terrible at it, and that nothing I say is going to convince her otherwise. Perhaps if she actually paid attention in class she might get more out of it, though...
Meanwhile, I had a kid yesterday look at me with a completely innocent, totally bewildered look when I asked her to finish solving the equation -2 + 7. It was as if I had asked her to add e raised to the i-th power and pi raised to the square root of 5. I spent an hour today going over the equation of a line. Example: "Okay, class, y=mx+b is the slope-intercept form: m is the slope, and b is the y-intercept. Now, suppose I tell you that the slope of the line is 3, and the y-intercept is 4. What is the equation of the line?" Blank stares. "Okay, well, in this equation, y=mx+b, m is the slope. So if the slope is 3, we get y=_x + b. What goes in the blank?" And so on. I am okay with going slowly through things, and explaining them in a number of different ways so that perhaps one will click. But while I'm explaining how to find the slope from two points ('rise over run') for the 7th time in the 6th different way, what are the kids who got it the first time doing? Aren't I doing the ones who already get this stuff a disservice by holding them back from learning more?
Anyway, it's an adventure. Each day, the first period is a real struggle, and I find my way a little bit better throughout the day. Still, I wonder if anyone will actually learn any geometry this year.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Minus 1
Okay, here's an example of what they're not telling me that they somehow expect me to know. Then, I promise, I'm getting off the "how come they didn't tell me these things" bandwagon.
Friday, I get a message to come to the Assistant Principal's office to pick up the Student Handbooks and some other things they have to sign. I was told that the students would get these things in their homeroom, and I was pretty sure I didn't have one, since no one had said I did, and I hadn't been given any information about them at all. I turned to leave. I could have left and thought nothing more about it, assuming my Algebra II class would be showing up at my door at 7:45 tomorrow, after 15 minutes in someone else's homeroom. I decided to ask if I had a homeroom.
It turns out I do, of course. So I asked my Assistant Principal what I am supposed to do in homeroom. Not to worry, she tells me, it'll all get explained at the big meeting during lunch Friday. Big meeting comes and goes. No explanation. I decide not to worry about it -- apparently, all I need to do is hand out the forms, tell them to return them signed by their caregiver, and send them on their merry way.
Today, Sunday, I was walking past an open office on my way to my car to go home, and stopped in to say hello. As we talked, she mentioned her homeroom class, which generated a discussion on what's entailed. Turns out, I'm supposed to hand out ID's and schedules, two things the students (who probably know what is supposed to happen in homeroom) are likely to want, and be unhappy that their homeroom teacher is clueless about. She tells me the ID's and schedules are in my box in the teachers lounge.
I go in there. Nothing. I go find the Assistant Principal in charge of scheduling, and as soon as she sees me coming she says "Oh, yeah... I need to let you know you don't have any ID's for your kids." This is 4 PM on SUNDAY. When was she planning to let me know?
"What should I tell them?" I ask.
"Well, we're going to round up their ID's from wherever they are and get them to the students on Tuesday."
"What about schedules, since that can't really wait until the next day?"
"You should have those," she tells me.
"Yes, I should. Unfortunately, I don't."
"Oh, well, we'll have them in your box tomorrow morning."
"Righty-o."
Friday, I get a message to come to the Assistant Principal's office to pick up the Student Handbooks and some other things they have to sign. I was told that the students would get these things in their homeroom, and I was pretty sure I didn't have one, since no one had said I did, and I hadn't been given any information about them at all. I turned to leave. I could have left and thought nothing more about it, assuming my Algebra II class would be showing up at my door at 7:45 tomorrow, after 15 minutes in someone else's homeroom. I decided to ask if I had a homeroom.
It turns out I do, of course. So I asked my Assistant Principal what I am supposed to do in homeroom. Not to worry, she tells me, it'll all get explained at the big meeting during lunch Friday. Big meeting comes and goes. No explanation. I decide not to worry about it -- apparently, all I need to do is hand out the forms, tell them to return them signed by their caregiver, and send them on their merry way.
Today, Sunday, I was walking past an open office on my way to my car to go home, and stopped in to say hello. As we talked, she mentioned her homeroom class, which generated a discussion on what's entailed. Turns out, I'm supposed to hand out ID's and schedules, two things the students (who probably know what is supposed to happen in homeroom) are likely to want, and be unhappy that their homeroom teacher is clueless about. She tells me the ID's and schedules are in my box in the teachers lounge.
I go in there. Nothing. I go find the Assistant Principal in charge of scheduling, and as soon as she sees me coming she says "Oh, yeah... I need to let you know you don't have any ID's for your kids." This is 4 PM on SUNDAY. When was she planning to let me know?
"What should I tell them?" I ask.
"Well, we're going to round up their ID's from wherever they are and get them to the students on Tuesday."
"What about schedules, since that can't really wait until the next day?"
"You should have those," she tells me.
"Yes, I should. Unfortunately, I don't."
"Oh, well, we'll have them in your box tomorrow morning."
"Righty-o."
Saturday, August 22, 2009
D-Day Minus 2
So now there is one day of prep left prior to my debut in front of approximately 180 future leaders of America, who expect me to guide them along the path to greatness. I'm not even remotely ready.
However, I'm feeling reasonably good about my prospects for avoiding major catastrophe. Tomorrow will be all about putting together the specific items I want to talk about and what I want to say. I've decided to stop caring about the fact that my room is going to look like shit relative to all of the overachievers who are decorating their bulletin boards, putting up themed posters and otherwise making their rooms look like artists' renderings of award-winning 3rd grade classrooms. My department head, who teaches calculus, uses a cow theme (cow-culus... get it?) and has cows ("moooving ahead through math") everywhere. There's also an enormous tree on the back wall, for hanging vocabulary words from.
Meanwhile, one of the assistant principals wants us to teach a lesson each of the first 6 days on things like tardiness, dress codes, etc. The packet he sent around includes worksheets, group activities and quizzes. (Why am I late? (a) my previous class is on the other side of the campus, (b) I had to go to my locker, (c) the halls were too crowded or (d) I spent too much time socializing with my friends.) It's about third grade level ("Okay, class. Who can tell me some reasons why a person might be tardy? Now, how do you think we might be able to prevent that from happening in the future?") So it looks like I'm going to start out being a maverick. I'm going to talk about tardiness ("Don't do it. If you do it very often, you're going to have to stay after school to make up the time.") but I'm not planning to do quizzes and group discussions on the subject.
I'm more than somewhat disappointed that there was essentially no help for first-time teachers (of whom there are apparently very few) and "new to MHS" teachers, of whom there are a whole bunch. The latter group probably knows the right questions to ask, but not the answers. The former group really doesn't even know the questions. I've started a list of things I wish I'd known on Monday, and so far it has about 35 items on it. For most of those things, I've learned the right answer, but in several cases, I would have been much better served to have known it earlier. Of course, there are a number of things I still don't know, and I don't have any idea what it is that I don't even know that I don't know.
I guess I'll find out in a couple of days...
However, I'm feeling reasonably good about my prospects for avoiding major catastrophe. Tomorrow will be all about putting together the specific items I want to talk about and what I want to say. I've decided to stop caring about the fact that my room is going to look like shit relative to all of the overachievers who are decorating their bulletin boards, putting up themed posters and otherwise making their rooms look like artists' renderings of award-winning 3rd grade classrooms. My department head, who teaches calculus, uses a cow theme (cow-culus... get it?) and has cows ("moooving ahead through math") everywhere. There's also an enormous tree on the back wall, for hanging vocabulary words from.
Meanwhile, one of the assistant principals wants us to teach a lesson each of the first 6 days on things like tardiness, dress codes, etc. The packet he sent around includes worksheets, group activities and quizzes. (Why am I late? (a) my previous class is on the other side of the campus, (b) I had to go to my locker, (c) the halls were too crowded or (d) I spent too much time socializing with my friends.) It's about third grade level ("Okay, class. Who can tell me some reasons why a person might be tardy? Now, how do you think we might be able to prevent that from happening in the future?") So it looks like I'm going to start out being a maverick. I'm going to talk about tardiness ("Don't do it. If you do it very often, you're going to have to stay after school to make up the time.") but I'm not planning to do quizzes and group discussions on the subject.
I'm more than somewhat disappointed that there was essentially no help for first-time teachers (of whom there are apparently very few) and "new to MHS" teachers, of whom there are a whole bunch. The latter group probably knows the right questions to ask, but not the answers. The former group really doesn't even know the questions. I've started a list of things I wish I'd known on Monday, and so far it has about 35 items on it. For most of those things, I've learned the right answer, but in several cases, I would have been much better served to have known it earlier. Of course, there are a number of things I still don't know, and I don't have any idea what it is that I don't even know that I don't know.
I guess I'll find out in a couple of days...
Friday, August 21, 2009
Testing
Took the Basic Skills / General Knowledge Exam here in Home State today, a key requirement for certification. You may recall from an earlier post (June 11th, to be exact) that individuals with a combined math and verbal ACT score of 42 or higher may be exempted from this exam back in the other state, but it's required here regardless of one's ACT or SAT score.
You may also recall that on June 9th I discussed the fact I'd taken several practice exams for this Basic Skills test, and was concerned about how difficult / tricky the questions were. On all three practice exams, I barely managed to pass the English Skills part of the test, because the mistakes they hid in sentences were (in my opinion) very difficult to find unless you are paying very close attention. Given my cavalier attitude toward testing, I could easily see myself failing because I wasn't giving each question due thought and deliberation.
So today, I took the actual test, and I swear it's a completely, fundamentally, totally different entity. It was perhaps the most ridiculously easy test ever. Find the error: Mary and he gave John and me the baseball us had asked for. OK, I can see how people might bite on the "he" or "me," but even if a marginally intelligent person with mediocre grammar skills was about to mark (a) or (b), here comes (c) -- "the baseball US had asked for." I used approximately 1 1/2 hours of my allotted 4 1/2, and it only took that long because I felt bad about finishing the sections so quickly, and went back and did all the questions a second time. The only question I had difficulty with was in the "basic skills math" section, because I don't recall what a scalene triangle is. Fortunately, the combination of answer options provided made the correct answer obvious, so I didn't fret too long over my weak vocabulary.
So that's done, almost. One of the sections requires writing an essay of "no more than 8000 words." My essay was, oh, 700 words, tops. Still, I have to believe it will pass, particularly given the unbelievably low standards for passing the other sections. Now I have to make it through Day 1 of school, which is seeming more and more daunting by the moment. I've spent the week cleaning my room and trying to figure out all the different stuff I am supposed to know, or need to know, or would be helpful to know... it's incredible. More on that later.
You may also recall that on June 9th I discussed the fact I'd taken several practice exams for this Basic Skills test, and was concerned about how difficult / tricky the questions were. On all three practice exams, I barely managed to pass the English Skills part of the test, because the mistakes they hid in sentences were (in my opinion) very difficult to find unless you are paying very close attention. Given my cavalier attitude toward testing, I could easily see myself failing because I wasn't giving each question due thought and deliberation.
So today, I took the actual test, and I swear it's a completely, fundamentally, totally different entity. It was perhaps the most ridiculously easy test ever. Find the error: Mary and he gave John and me the baseball us had asked for. OK, I can see how people might bite on the "he" or "me," but even if a marginally intelligent person with mediocre grammar skills was about to mark (a) or (b), here comes (c) -- "the baseball US had asked for." I used approximately 1 1/2 hours of my allotted 4 1/2, and it only took that long because I felt bad about finishing the sections so quickly, and went back and did all the questions a second time. The only question I had difficulty with was in the "basic skills math" section, because I don't recall what a scalene triangle is. Fortunately, the combination of answer options provided made the correct answer obvious, so I didn't fret too long over my weak vocabulary.
So that's done, almost. One of the sections requires writing an essay of "no more than 8000 words." My essay was, oh, 700 words, tops. Still, I have to believe it will pass, particularly given the unbelievably low standards for passing the other sections. Now I have to make it through Day 1 of school, which is seeming more and more daunting by the moment. I've spent the week cleaning my room and trying to figure out all the different stuff I am supposed to know, or need to know, or would be helpful to know... it's incredible. More on that later.
Monday, August 17, 2009
First Day Reflections
Interesting day. No provision for newbies, so I wandered into the main office area around 7:45, 15 minutes before the program was to start, and eventually asked the principal's secretary where I should go when it became apparent everyone else was renewing acquaintances and into their own agendas. Into the media center (didn't they used to be called libraries?), where about 40 tables were set up. Wandered around for a few minutes and finally sat at a table where there was a familiar face -- Melanie, from the classroom management course I took last week. Turns out the entire table was new-to-the-school people (4 of us), but 2 of them had prior teaching experience elsewhere.
The principal is also new to the school, and gave a pretty good introductory talk... took us through the data on how the school ranked (not pretty, at all), and was inspirational about improving it. A couple of off-hand remarks I heard through the rest of the day indicated that the change he represents is a welcome one; apparently, the administration at MHS had gotten very complacent and resigned.
The rest of the day was less helpful. I peppered the principal's secretary with a hundred questions -- I didn't have any idea who else to ask regarding things like where I go to get my ID, how to get my computer, how to get stuff carted out of my classroom (which has apparently been the repository of all spare file cabinets since 1963), who I should talk to about getting more student desks (there are 32 in the room and I have 2 classes of 35 students), how I can get a new whiteboard, etc.
It occurred to me this evening as I was contemplating the day, that I will walk into the classroom on Monday having spent a total of 1 day in the last 35 years in a high school classroom, and, if it weren't for this career-changers program, without any guidance as to what to do or how to do it. The thought that I might have conceivably been hired in the city where my younger kids live and walked into that classroom completely cold is a frightening one. Not that a week's worth of advance instruction is a lot, but at least it gives me a framework. It also makes me wonder, and I mean SERIOUSLY wonder, how the vast majority of teachers make it through their first few days. I've been around a fairly long time, and experienced a lot of new jobs, new places, etc., which gives me some grounding, at least to the extent that I know what I don't know, and am not embarrassed to ask someone about it. Maybe the Education majors out there learn it all from their student teaching or other places, but I feel as if there is virtually no support at all for first-year teachers within the school itself, and I wouldn't want to be in that position if this were my first job out of college. Maybe there will be more support coming through the rest of the week, but I don't see it on the schedule.
The principal is also new to the school, and gave a pretty good introductory talk... took us through the data on how the school ranked (not pretty, at all), and was inspirational about improving it. A couple of off-hand remarks I heard through the rest of the day indicated that the change he represents is a welcome one; apparently, the administration at MHS had gotten very complacent and resigned.
The rest of the day was less helpful. I peppered the principal's secretary with a hundred questions -- I didn't have any idea who else to ask regarding things like where I go to get my ID, how to get my computer, how to get stuff carted out of my classroom (which has apparently been the repository of all spare file cabinets since 1963), who I should talk to about getting more student desks (there are 32 in the room and I have 2 classes of 35 students), how I can get a new whiteboard, etc.It occurred to me this evening as I was contemplating the day, that I will walk into the classroom on Monday having spent a total of 1 day in the last 35 years in a high school classroom, and, if it weren't for this career-changers program, without any guidance as to what to do or how to do it. The thought that I might have conceivably been hired in the city where my younger kids live and walked into that classroom completely cold is a frightening one. Not that a week's worth of advance instruction is a lot, but at least it gives me a framework. It also makes me wonder, and I mean SERIOUSLY wonder, how the vast majority of teachers make it through their first few days. I've been around a fairly long time, and experienced a lot of new jobs, new places, etc., which gives me some grounding, at least to the extent that I know what I don't know, and am not embarrassed to ask someone about it. Maybe the Education majors out there learn it all from their student teaching or other places, but I feel as if there is virtually no support at all for first-year teachers within the school itself, and I wouldn't want to be in that position if this were my first job out of college. Maybe there will be more support coming through the rest of the week, but I don't see it on the schedule.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Classroom Management Training
I'm mainly writing this post for myself, so that if I ever get asked to evaluate various parts of my certification training, I'll have written it down somewhere while it was still fresh. So feel free to soldier on, dear reader, but recognize that it's mainly a disquisition on how not to run a seminar on classroom management.
It was a two-day seminar, with different instructors each day (although why this was the case is unclear). Those of us in the career-changers program received the text for this course several months ago, but I hadn't spent much time reading it. The first-day instructor at one point clearly indicated the slide presentation she was giving was hers (noting she had forgotten to change the date on the first slide, which was September 17, 2007), but later in the day seemed to imply that she had nothing to do with writing the presentation.
One thing is clear, however -- she didn't proofread it. In addition to the "September 17, 2007" issue, there were several other typos, including at least one sentence that was gibberish.
Part of good classroom management is arranging the physical space to accomodate the type of interaction you're expecting to have with the students. (I know this because I was actually listening during the seminar.) So, for example, if you expect lots of small group work, cluster the desks together. Or, if you want mostly discussion among the entire class, try to arrange the desks in a large semi-circle or U. Et cetera. Of course, if you can't move the desks around, you live with what you have. But if you can, it's a good management tool. The first day was nothing but lecture and full-class discussion, but the easily-movable desks were arranged in clusters.
Another key element of good classroom management is varying the teaching style -- some lecture, some small group work, some large group discussion, etc. This is important even in 60- or 90-minute classes, so if you have the kids all day like in elementary school or a seminar, it's absolutely critical. So the entire first day was nothing but lecture and large group discussion.
Another part of classroom management is keeping the group on-topic. This is admittedly harder to do when you're talking with adults who want to tell stories that are semi-related, but we spent 30 minutes in a discussion of whether it was against the county's policy to grade homework (it is), and given that, what you could do to ensure homework gets done anyway. Great discussion in many respects, but far afield from how to manage the classroom. Moreover, since the county employee couldn't answer the question and didn't really know what standard practice among other teachers is, it was just a bunch of people with no information trying to guess at a right answer. Highly unproductive and, as noted, off-topic.
Final point on the first day's lecturer: she used imprecise language in instances where precision was very, very important. Specifically, several times, she responded to a question about whether some action was OK to do in the classroom with "Oh, no. You can't do that." Further probing revealed that about one-third the time, this meant "Doing that would be a mistake because it will cause more trouble than it's worth," one-third of the time it was "You can try that, but in my opinion, students will not respond the way you want them to," and one-third the time it meant "That's illegal." OK, maybe we shouldn't do any of those things, but there's a pretty big difference between "that's probably not going to work" and "that will cost you your job."
Second-day lecturer was dramatically better, with much more interaction, much more varied activities and a better slide presentation. Also, the desks were in the same place, but it made sense on the second day because we did lots of small group work.
It was a two-day seminar, with different instructors each day (although why this was the case is unclear). Those of us in the career-changers program received the text for this course several months ago, but I hadn't spent much time reading it. The first-day instructor at one point clearly indicated the slide presentation she was giving was hers (noting she had forgotten to change the date on the first slide, which was September 17, 2007), but later in the day seemed to imply that she had nothing to do with writing the presentation.
One thing is clear, however -- she didn't proofread it. In addition to the "September 17, 2007" issue, there were several other typos, including at least one sentence that was gibberish.
Part of good classroom management is arranging the physical space to accomodate the type of interaction you're expecting to have with the students. (I know this because I was actually listening during the seminar.) So, for example, if you expect lots of small group work, cluster the desks together. Or, if you want mostly discussion among the entire class, try to arrange the desks in a large semi-circle or U. Et cetera. Of course, if you can't move the desks around, you live with what you have. But if you can, it's a good management tool. The first day was nothing but lecture and full-class discussion, but the easily-movable desks were arranged in clusters.
Another key element of good classroom management is varying the teaching style -- some lecture, some small group work, some large group discussion, etc. This is important even in 60- or 90-minute classes, so if you have the kids all day like in elementary school or a seminar, it's absolutely critical. So the entire first day was nothing but lecture and large group discussion.
Another part of classroom management is keeping the group on-topic. This is admittedly harder to do when you're talking with adults who want to tell stories that are semi-related, but we spent 30 minutes in a discussion of whether it was against the county's policy to grade homework (it is), and given that, what you could do to ensure homework gets done anyway. Great discussion in many respects, but far afield from how to manage the classroom. Moreover, since the county employee couldn't answer the question and didn't really know what standard practice among other teachers is, it was just a bunch of people with no information trying to guess at a right answer. Highly unproductive and, as noted, off-topic.
Final point on the first day's lecturer: she used imprecise language in instances where precision was very, very important. Specifically, several times, she responded to a question about whether some action was OK to do in the classroom with "Oh, no. You can't do that." Further probing revealed that about one-third the time, this meant "Doing that would be a mistake because it will cause more trouble than it's worth," one-third of the time it was "You can try that, but in my opinion, students will not respond the way you want them to," and one-third the time it meant "That's illegal." OK, maybe we shouldn't do any of those things, but there's a pretty big difference between "that's probably not going to work" and "that will cost you your job."
Second-day lecturer was dramatically better, with much more interaction, much more varied activities and a better slide presentation. Also, the desks were in the same place, but it made sense on the second day because we did lots of small group work.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Pent Up Demand
I sent a note to everybody I had an email address for letting them know I'd taken a math teaching job at MHS here in Home State, and within 24 hours over half of them had written back congratulating me and saying very nice things about how great it is I'll be teaching and how good they think I'll be at it.
It's always nice to be loved, of course, but the thing that struck me was how noble people consider me for doing this -- like becoming a firefighter or Mother Teresa or something. From my perspective, there's a very selfish aspect to my becoming a teacher, particularly with respect to providing for the kids. I've pretty much said to them "hey, you're on your own financially. Good luck and god speed. Oh, and if you have a few extra bucks, I could use some graph paper for my Geometry class."
I also got the sense that a lot of the people who were just finding out about the career change were somewhat wistful, as in "Gee, I wish I could afford to chuck this crappy job and go teach high school." In any case, it will certainly be an adventure. And what more can you want out of life?
It's always nice to be loved, of course, but the thing that struck me was how noble people consider me for doing this -- like becoming a firefighter or Mother Teresa or something. From my perspective, there's a very selfish aspect to my becoming a teacher, particularly with respect to providing for the kids. I've pretty much said to them "hey, you're on your own financially. Good luck and god speed. Oh, and if you have a few extra bucks, I could use some graph paper for my Geometry class."
I also got the sense that a lot of the people who were just finding out about the career change were somewhat wistful, as in "Gee, I wish I could afford to chuck this crappy job and go teach high school." In any case, it will certainly be an adventure. And what more can you want out of life?
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Crossing T's
I signed my "Home County Public Schools New Hire Commitment Form" today for the job at MHS, which prohibits me from accepting an offer from another school in Home County and requires MHS to hire me, providing I do all the paperwork required and the background check doesn't turn up anything untoward.
[In national news today, a math teacher in Duval County, Florida (Jacksonville) was suspended for 15 days because of an incident in which he choked a student, which another student filmed with a cell phone. Commentary on the incident seems to be evenly split between those expressing outrage the teacher wasn't fired and those saying the choking was probably justified because the kids are out of control. I have no further comment.]
Looks like I'll be teaching Algebra I, Geometry and Honors Geometry. Which means I won't get bored going over the same subject matter 5 or 6 different times in different sections of the same course, but also means that my lesson plan preparation time will be about 2.5 times what it would be for one course. On top of certification coursework and whatever consulting / tutoring / other teaching I end up doing to try to make ends meet, it should make for a full day. But hey, I get summers off.
I also found an apartment, which I love. It's about $100 more per month than I planned to spend, and $200 more than I had hoped, but it's a beautiful place. It's also in a neighborhood that I really, really love. I can walk to the grocery store, the Starbucks, the library and several restaurants and bars. The only bad news is that it's not available until October 1, so I'll be living out of a suitcase for another couple of months. On the whole, though, yesterday was a pretty good day.
[In national news today, a math teacher in Duval County, Florida (Jacksonville) was suspended for 15 days because of an incident in which he choked a student, which another student filmed with a cell phone. Commentary on the incident seems to be evenly split between those expressing outrage the teacher wasn't fired and those saying the choking was probably justified because the kids are out of control. I have no further comment.]
Looks like I'll be teaching Algebra I, Geometry and Honors Geometry. Which means I won't get bored going over the same subject matter 5 or 6 different times in different sections of the same course, but also means that my lesson plan preparation time will be about 2.5 times what it would be for one course. On top of certification coursework and whatever consulting / tutoring / other teaching I end up doing to try to make ends meet, it should make for a full day. But hey, I get summers off.
I also found an apartment, which I love. It's about $100 more per month than I planned to spend, and $200 more than I had hoped, but it's a beautiful place. It's also in a neighborhood that I really, really love. I can walk to the grocery store, the Starbucks, the library and several restaurants and bars. The only bad news is that it's not available until October 1, so I'll be living out of a suitcase for another couple of months. On the whole, though, yesterday was a pretty good day.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Jobbed Up
Today was the first day of certification classes, which was interesting. More on that at some point. During lunch today, however, the big news happened...
I got an offer from the high school I interviewed with on Monday. So that's very good. I also asked some of the people running the certification program about the school (which will henceforth be referred to as My High School, or MHS) and the reviews were uniformly non-negative. Which is really very good, given that all the options for participants in the career-changers program are "high risk" or "high needs" schools, virtually all of which get some pretty negative reviews. So MHS is in the front row of the second tier, to use a Bob Uecker line. Also, I really liked both the principal and assistant principal, so that's good. I haven't accepted the offer yet, but it's only a matter of time.
I'm pretty excited. Now, it's on to the really annoying stuff, like finding an apartment that is simultaneously in my price range and not so disgusting I can't live with myself living there.
I got an offer from the high school I interviewed with on Monday. So that's very good. I also asked some of the people running the certification program about the school (which will henceforth be referred to as My High School, or MHS) and the reviews were uniformly non-negative. Which is really very good, given that all the options for participants in the career-changers program are "high risk" or "high needs" schools, virtually all of which get some pretty negative reviews. So MHS is in the front row of the second tier, to use a Bob Uecker line. Also, I really liked both the principal and assistant principal, so that's good. I haven't accepted the offer yet, but it's only a matter of time.
I'm pretty excited. Now, it's on to the really annoying stuff, like finding an apartment that is simultaneously in my price range and not so disgusting I can't live with myself living there.
Today
Feels like the first day of school. (I start certification classes today.) I have my lunch box, my backpack and my brand new pad of paper. All I'm missing is a handful of sharpened no. 2 pencils.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
This is how the world begins... not with a bang but a whimper.
I'm back in Home State, waiting for news about my job interview and looking at places to live relatively near that school, based on the assumption I'll get an offer. The interview was with the assistant principal and went very well. I think I mentioned I had met the principal of the school during the career-changers program interview process, and was impressed with him. Apparently the feeling was mutual, at least according to the assistant principal in our conversation yesterday. As for next steps, the two of them will discuss their impressions, and then we'll all wait for the hiring freeze to be lifted, which should happen any day now.
I'm struggling mightily with the feeling of being in limbo -- not really knowing where I live, not knowing whether to tell people here that I'm back, not knowing exactly what to tell people at the place I just left what my status is or will be, etc., and not knowing for sure when I'll know any of those things. Everything right now seems to be a "maybe," and it's making me nuts. Also, I really, really dread the moving process.
I'm struggling mightily with the feeling of being in limbo -- not really knowing where I live, not knowing whether to tell people here that I'm back, not knowing exactly what to tell people at the place I just left what my status is or will be, etc., and not knowing for sure when I'll know any of those things. Everything right now seems to be a "maybe," and it's making me nuts. Also, I really, really dread the moving process.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Back to Home State
Today is the last weekday I will be in Current State before returning to Home State to begin certification classes, so unless I get a call today asking me to interview at a school here, I will not be teaching this year in Current State.
I do, however, have an interview at a high school in Home State on Monday afternoon. The principal is new, but sat in on my final interview with the career-changers program, and asked to interview me for a math job. So that's looking pretty good.
I've told E I'm unlikely to remain in Current State, but he is at camp until next week, so I won't see him before I leave. I have KB this weekend, and will let her know I'm moving back to Home State. Sigh.
All that said, I'm excited to get started.
I do, however, have an interview at a high school in Home State on Monday afternoon. The principal is new, but sat in on my final interview with the career-changers program, and asked to interview me for a math job. So that's looking pretty good.
I've told E I'm unlikely to remain in Current State, but he is at camp until next week, so I won't see him before I leave. I have KB this weekend, and will let her know I'm moving back to Home State. Sigh.
All that said, I'm excited to get started.
Monday, July 20, 2009
No News
I had a conversation yesterday with a guy here in Current State interested in becoming a math or science teacher. (His wife worked for my ex-wife. [Pause] The second one, thanks for asking.) Anyway, it turns out he's been interested in teaching high school for over a year and has completed an application with one of the counties in the metro area, but didn't know about the career-changers program. I now don't feel so bad about having missed the deadline by a week.
I'm still kicking myself for that, however, because I believe I would be a shoo-in for a job if I'd gotten into the program, as I did in Home State. As it is, I now have one week remaining in Current State, during which time I need to get an interview and a job offer in order to stay here. Otherwise, it's back to Home State to start taking the certification course and waiting for job offers there.
I'm still kicking myself for that, however, because I believe I would be a shoo-in for a job if I'd gotten into the program, as I did in Home State. As it is, I now have one week remaining in Current State, during which time I need to get an interview and a job offer in order to stay here. Otherwise, it's back to Home State to start taking the certification course and waiting for job offers there.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
More Good News
Current State: The largest county in the metro area where I currently reside just posted a generic math teacher opening -- not specific to one school, but county-wide. So I have gone through the standard reference-request, transcript-sending, ACE test-reporting song-and-dance for what will hopefully be the last time. There are now two weeks remaining prior to the first day of in-service training for teachers in current state, so whatever happens needs to happen soon.
Home State: The head of the career-changers program emailed me saying the new principal of one of the schools there wants to interview me, so that's significant progress. I think he's the principal who sat in on my interview earlier in the career-changers process, and if so, I liked him pretty well. The certification classes in Home State also start in two weeks, so something needs to happen soon there, too, although school doesn't actually start until August 20th.
Home State: The head of the career-changers program emailed me saying the new principal of one of the schools there wants to interview me, so that's significant progress. I think he's the principal who sat in on my interview earlier in the career-changers process, and if so, I liked him pretty well. The certification classes in Home State also start in two weeks, so something needs to happen soon there, too, although school doesn't actually start until August 20th.
Friday, July 10, 2009
Another Day, Another Mood Swing
Disappointed by the earlier information I got about Home State's hiring freeze, I wrote the person in charge of the Career Changers program asking whether she had any idea when the freeze might be lifted. I got a very encouraging response, including a reiteration that she was pretty confident I'd have a job at the beginning of the school year. So there's that.
Also, my conversation with a couple of teachers in Current State convinces me that, if I get any interview opportunities here, it will be no sooner than a week or so before they have to make a hire. Essentially, the principals are trying to hire experienced teachers, or lacking that, teachers who have gone through some training in advance of beginning to teach. Only as a last resort will they hire someone like me, who is qualified in the subject area but has no teaching experience or training. The situation is different in Home State because I'm in the training program there.
"No Child Left Behind" has also had the effect of creating a pool of unemployed but certified and experienced teachers all looking for jobs in the 4 to 6 weeks prior to the start of school. Here's my understanding of how that happens. (Caveat: like everything else associated with the public school system, I am only about 50% confident I actually understand the process, in part because virtually every explanation I see on official websites, etc. contradicts explanations I've found elsewhere.)
With that caveat...
No Child Left Behind requires all public schools to administer a state-wide standardized test annually to all students. Schools which receive Title I funding must make Adequate Yearly Progress (AYP) in test scores. Only test scores from certain grade levels "count" in assessing AYP.
If a Title I school fails to make AYP, then it is put on a list of "failing schools" published in the local paper and parents are given the option to transfer to another school. If it does not meet AYP for a second year, then it must provide special tutoring for its economically disadvantaged students.
Most relevantly for this blog post, teachers in schools which don't make AYP two years in a row have their contracts cancelled / not automatically renewed, and they must go through an interview process with the principal to retain their jobs. Presumably, they may also seek jobs at other schools at which there are openings, even if the principal at the current school would like to retain them. (I'm not 100% certain about this, but I believe it's correct.) Regardless, it means that when the test results come out shortly after the end of the school year, there are a few schools that must re-fill every teaching position in the school. (In Home County, there are at least 4 high schools (of 20) in this position.) It also enables principals to get rid of some bad teachers, assuming, of course, there are people available to fill those positions. So there's a big game of musical chairs happening in the two months between the scores coming out and the beginning of the school year. Meanwhile, those of us who are not yet in the game have to stand around waiting to see if there will be empty chairs remaining when the music stops.
So that's where I am now... waiting for the music to stop.
Also, my conversation with a couple of teachers in Current State convinces me that, if I get any interview opportunities here, it will be no sooner than a week or so before they have to make a hire. Essentially, the principals are trying to hire experienced teachers, or lacking that, teachers who have gone through some training in advance of beginning to teach. Only as a last resort will they hire someone like me, who is qualified in the subject area but has no teaching experience or training. The situation is different in Home State because I'm in the training program there.
"No Child Left Behind" has also had the effect of creating a pool of unemployed but certified and experienced teachers all looking for jobs in the 4 to 6 weeks prior to the start of school. Here's my understanding of how that happens. (Caveat: like everything else associated with the public school system, I am only about 50% confident I actually understand the process, in part because virtually every explanation I see on official websites, etc. contradicts explanations I've found elsewhere.)
With that caveat...
No Child Left Behind requires all public schools to administer a state-wide standardized test annually to all students. Schools which receive Title I funding must make Adequate Yearly Progress (AYP) in test scores. Only test scores from certain grade levels "count" in assessing AYP.
If a Title I school fails to make AYP, then it is put on a list of "failing schools" published in the local paper and parents are given the option to transfer to another school. If it does not meet AYP for a second year, then it must provide special tutoring for its economically disadvantaged students.
Most relevantly for this blog post, teachers in schools which don't make AYP two years in a row have their contracts cancelled / not automatically renewed, and they must go through an interview process with the principal to retain their jobs. Presumably, they may also seek jobs at other schools at which there are openings, even if the principal at the current school would like to retain them. (I'm not 100% certain about this, but I believe it's correct.) Regardless, it means that when the test results come out shortly after the end of the school year, there are a few schools that must re-fill every teaching position in the school. (In Home County, there are at least 4 high schools (of 20) in this position.) It also enables principals to get rid of some bad teachers, assuming, of course, there are people available to fill those positions. So there's a big game of musical chairs happening in the two months between the scores coming out and the beginning of the school year. Meanwhile, those of us who are not yet in the game have to stand around waiting to see if there will be empty chairs remaining when the music stops.
So that's where I am now... waiting for the music to stop.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Quote of the Day
Today's Quote of the Day (from The Quotations Page) is "Nothing is as simple as we hope it will be." That could not be more true.
The teaching job search has hit snags in both Current State and Home State. Home State (actually, Home County) is in a hiring freeze. I'm told that when it ends, I'm virtually assured of getting an offer, if not several, from high schools in the area. But as to when it will end, no one can say. Perhaps before the beginning of the school year, but perhaps not.
Current State may or may not have put in a new regulation about being enrolled in a certification program before being eligible to be hired. Historically, one could be hired first, then enroll, with the only requirement being that one had to complete one's certification within 3 years. There's no logic to requiring enrollment prior to being hired that anyone can provide for me, and there's no mention of the requirement on the state's professional standards website, the site to which one is directed for information on certification procedures.
New plan (Current State): Go to the principals of schools in Current State who have open positions, and show them my credentials. Get one of them to agree to hire me if I meet all the requirements. Camp out in the district office until someone agrees I've met all the requirements, or clearly shows how I haven't, and what I can do about it. Meet those requirements. Accept job offer. Get over bitterness.
New plan (Home State): Hope and wait. The school board approved an increase in property tax rate two days ago, but the budget doesn't get approved until September. So the first thing I need to do is find out if there is any chance the hiring freeze will be lifted prior to the budget approval.
I really hate this.
The teaching job search has hit snags in both Current State and Home State. Home State (actually, Home County) is in a hiring freeze. I'm told that when it ends, I'm virtually assured of getting an offer, if not several, from high schools in the area. But as to when it will end, no one can say. Perhaps before the beginning of the school year, but perhaps not.
Current State may or may not have put in a new regulation about being enrolled in a certification program before being eligible to be hired. Historically, one could be hired first, then enroll, with the only requirement being that one had to complete one's certification within 3 years. There's no logic to requiring enrollment prior to being hired that anyone can provide for me, and there's no mention of the requirement on the state's professional standards website, the site to which one is directed for information on certification procedures.
New plan (Current State): Go to the principals of schools in Current State who have open positions, and show them my credentials. Get one of them to agree to hire me if I meet all the requirements. Camp out in the district office until someone agrees I've met all the requirements, or clearly shows how I haven't, and what I can do about it. Meet those requirements. Accept job offer. Get over bitterness.
New plan (Home State): Hope and wait. The school board approved an increase in property tax rate two days ago, but the budget doesn't get approved until September. So the first thing I need to do is find out if there is any chance the hiring freeze will be lifted prior to the budget approval.
I really hate this.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Another Day in the Shining City
The city in which I currently live (for the next 3 -4 weeks, anyway) is notorious for its traffic. I'm living due east of town, and my kids live due north of it. There are two options, equally awful, for going from my place to theirs - highway west into the center of town then another highway north through town, or the loop going widdershins around town. Both are about 30 minutes without traffic and 1 1/2 hours in a normal rush-hour.
Which, as it turns out, starts at 3:30 PM.
E has baseball games that start at 6 and KB has swim meets that start at 5:30. What working parent could possibly take their kid to these things, since the participants are supposed to be there an hour early? Are all swim teams composed entirely of kids with a stay-at-home parent? Also, swim meets require about 237 volunteers, and take at least 9 hours to complete. Every lane needs a starter, a timer and another person to do something official-looking with a clipboard, plus there are bullpen-watchers for each age group (of which there are about 30), shepherds to take the kids from the bullpen to the lanes when it's their turn to swim, and 10 or 15 other people who ferry information back and forth as quickly as possible for no apparent reason, since the score of the meet is never mentioned during the event, and the winner is typically announced a couple of days later by email. Because the meets are so long, they have two sets of volunteers, one for the first half of the meet and one set for the second half. I thought hockey parents, who take their kids to the rink at 3:30 AM because that's the only ice time the pewee peewee* group can get, were dedicated. But if you have a kid who has been on a swim team for more than 2 years, you're either a saint or you've stopped attending their meets.
Anyway, I now head for the north of town at about 2 PM whenever I have to be there for a game or meet, and hang out in the air-conditioned, free wireless-accessible branch library. Not sure why I needed to write that down, but there it is. And here I am, waiting for 5:30.
*Scrabble fails me once again. PEWEE is a perfectly acceptable word, a fact I happened to know. Unfortunately, a PEWEE is a type of bird, not an alternate spelling of PEEWEE, a fact I clearly didn't know.
Which, as it turns out, starts at 3:30 PM.
E has baseball games that start at 6 and KB has swim meets that start at 5:30. What working parent could possibly take their kid to these things, since the participants are supposed to be there an hour early? Are all swim teams composed entirely of kids with a stay-at-home parent? Also, swim meets require about 237 volunteers, and take at least 9 hours to complete. Every lane needs a starter, a timer and another person to do something official-looking with a clipboard, plus there are bullpen-watchers for each age group (of which there are about 30), shepherds to take the kids from the bullpen to the lanes when it's their turn to swim, and 10 or 15 other people who ferry information back and forth as quickly as possible for no apparent reason, since the score of the meet is never mentioned during the event, and the winner is typically announced a couple of days later by email. Because the meets are so long, they have two sets of volunteers, one for the first half of the meet and one set for the second half. I thought hockey parents, who take their kids to the rink at 3:30 AM because that's the only ice time the pewee peewee* group can get, were dedicated. But if you have a kid who has been on a swim team for more than 2 years, you're either a saint or you've stopped attending their meets.
Anyway, I now head for the north of town at about 2 PM whenever I have to be there for a game or meet, and hang out in the air-conditioned, free wireless-accessible branch library. Not sure why I needed to write that down, but there it is. And here I am, waiting for 5:30.
*Scrabble fails me once again. PEWEE is a perfectly acceptable word, a fact I happened to know. Unfortunately, a PEWEE is a type of bird, not an alternate spelling of PEEWEE, a fact I clearly didn't know.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Bummin'
Tough day for the home team. As noted earlier, the position at the high school I have been trying to contact has apparently been filled. Moreover, 4 of the 5 positions in the largest county in the area are no longer listed, presumably meaning they also have been filled. Meanwhile, no one has even contacted me for an interview here in Current State.
I also have gotten no word recently from anyone in Home State, although that's less concerning because of my previous conversations with them. Looks like I may be moving back to Home State come the end of the summer.
I also have gotten no word recently from anyone in Home State, although that's less concerning because of my previous conversations with them. Looks like I may be moving back to Home State come the end of the summer.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
School Visit II
Virtually every county is very clear regarding what applicants should do once they have submitted all of their information and applied for the open positions listed on the county's website: "Don't call us, we'll call you." One county in particular goes out of its way to (a) post this instruction in every possible place one might conceivably search for ways to contact people, and (b) give as many reasons as they can think of to justify themselves.
However, one county explicitly states that applicants are welcome to contact the principals at the schools to which they've applied in order to set up interviews. Apparently the HR folks in that county's DOE got tired of fielding calls from frustrated applicants asking about their status despite all the warnings against doing exactly that. Or else there is an enormous conspiracy to make the process of applying to several counties as confusing as possible, and this county volunteered to make its contact process different from every other one on earth. I don't entirely discount the conspiracy theory -- it explains many, many aspects of this farkakteh process.
Anyway, I've been trying to reach the principal of one particular school in Outlier County for about 3 weeks. The first dozen or so times I called, I got a busy signal, or no signal at all and a "Congestion" notice on my phone, something I'd never seen before. I finally got through, only to learn the principal's position was open, and the task of hiring a math teacher would be falling to someone else. I left a message for the fill-in. No response for several days. I called back, eventually getting the office again. Another message, plus a recommendation from the office person to write her an email. Email sent. No response to either the message or the email. More office-calling, this time without actually getting through to the office. So I drove to the school.
There was scaffolding all around the original building, the skeleton of another building being erected next to the main one and a couple of dozen men in hard hats hanging out in various vestibules. I walked in, figuring the office would still be open. No one anywhere. I wandered through the school for about 10 minutes, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to look around -- it was a high school created straight from my imagination of what one should look like. (Think lots of brick, several stories, lockers in the hallway, etc.)
I eventually walked back outside and found a person walking behind the building who appeared to be administrative. (No, I don't know what would constitute an "administrative-looking" person.) Turns out, the admin staff is holed up in a couple of trailers in the parking lot for the duration of the construction, and is sharing a single phone, which explains the inability to get through. Unfortunately, Ms. Fill-In was in an "all day off-site meeting," and thus unavailable. I tried to make an appointment but got only a promise that she would be given my hand-written message regarding my desire to meet with her.
That was Thursday. No contact yet. But now I know where she is, so she can't escape without eventually talking to me.
However, one county explicitly states that applicants are welcome to contact the principals at the schools to which they've applied in order to set up interviews. Apparently the HR folks in that county's DOE got tired of fielding calls from frustrated applicants asking about their status despite all the warnings against doing exactly that. Or else there is an enormous conspiracy to make the process of applying to several counties as confusing as possible, and this county volunteered to make its contact process different from every other one on earth. I don't entirely discount the conspiracy theory -- it explains many, many aspects of this farkakteh process.
Anyway, I've been trying to reach the principal of one particular school in Outlier County for about 3 weeks. The first dozen or so times I called, I got a busy signal, or no signal at all and a "Congestion" notice on my phone, something I'd never seen before. I finally got through, only to learn the principal's position was open, and the task of hiring a math teacher would be falling to someone else. I left a message for the fill-in. No response for several days. I called back, eventually getting the office again. Another message, plus a recommendation from the office person to write her an email. Email sent. No response to either the message or the email. More office-calling, this time without actually getting through to the office. So I drove to the school.
There was scaffolding all around the original building, the skeleton of another building being erected next to the main one and a couple of dozen men in hard hats hanging out in various vestibules. I walked in, figuring the office would still be open. No one anywhere. I wandered through the school for about 10 minutes, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to look around -- it was a high school created straight from my imagination of what one should look like. (Think lots of brick, several stories, lockers in the hallway, etc.)
I eventually walked back outside and found a person walking behind the building who appeared to be administrative. (No, I don't know what would constitute an "administrative-looking" person.) Turns out, the admin staff is holed up in a couple of trailers in the parking lot for the duration of the construction, and is sharing a single phone, which explains the inability to get through. Unfortunately, Ms. Fill-In was in an "all day off-site meeting," and thus unavailable. I tried to make an appointment but got only a promise that she would be given my hand-written message regarding my desire to meet with her.
That was Thursday. No contact yet. But now I know where she is, so she can't escape without eventually talking to me.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Who Makes Up These Rules?
As I do virtually every day, I checked today each of the several counties in Current State to which I've sent applications to see if (a) there are additional jobs posted to which I might apply and (b) anything has changed with respect to my application status. I finally noticed today that my "certification status" was a little strange in one of the counties to which I've applied. It's hard to describe exactly what was strange -- it would take several paragraphs just to describe the various possible status messages, and a couple of dozen more to explain precisely what my certification status really is, but trust me, the status message was strange. Not strange enough that I was really worried about it, which is why I hadn't noticed it before. But now I'm paranoid. So I called the county DOE and asked about it. They replied that they had no verification that I'd passed the Basic Skills portion of the State ACE. That was annoying, since it meant my application had been languishing in the county DOE (and not sent to principals who could decide whether to interview me) for at least 3 months, but okay...
"This is no problem," I said -- "I exempted from the Basic Skills portion by virtue of my ACT scores, which are reported on my first undergraduate school's transcript, which you have." I even told them where to find the ACT scores on the transcript. "Great," she replied, and we hung up. To her everlasting credit, she called back. But the news was bad. "They didn't report your individual English and Math scores on the ACT," she tells me, and I need a combined 42 to be exempt.
"Um, yeah, but you'll notice it lists the percentile I acheived. It's 93rd in English, and 99th in Math, overall 98th. Surely 98th percentile will get me through?"
"No, that's not good enough."
"98th percentile isn't good enough? What does it take?"
"We need your combined score to be higher than 42."
"OK, well, you'll notice the 'comprehensive' score is 30. That's the average of the two scores. Which means I had no worse than a 59 combined. So that gets me in, right?"
"No, that's not good enough. You have to have two scores that add to more than 42."
"I do. I have two scores that add up to something that, when divided by 2, equals 30. Which makes those two scores, added together, more than 42."
"That's not good enough." (Honest... she told me this 3 times. I probably would have let it go if she had said "Yes, but that's not what we need," or "We need the actual scores," or even "Yes, it's absurd, but it's a requirement.")
Sigh. Now I have the thrill of getting my ACTs or SATs from the college testing board, expedited. More red tape, more red numbers in my bank account. I never, ever want to hear anyone complain about the bureaucracy within the company at which they work. Unless they work for the government, or they want to hear 3 hours of "I can top that" stories.
"This is no problem," I said -- "I exempted from the Basic Skills portion by virtue of my ACT scores, which are reported on my first undergraduate school's transcript, which you have." I even told them where to find the ACT scores on the transcript. "Great," she replied, and we hung up. To her everlasting credit, she called back. But the news was bad. "They didn't report your individual English and Math scores on the ACT," she tells me, and I need a combined 42 to be exempt.
"Um, yeah, but you'll notice it lists the percentile I acheived. It's 93rd in English, and 99th in Math, overall 98th. Surely 98th percentile will get me through?"
"No, that's not good enough."
"98th percentile isn't good enough? What does it take?"
"We need your combined score to be higher than 42."
"OK, well, you'll notice the 'comprehensive' score is 30. That's the average of the two scores. Which means I had no worse than a 59 combined. So that gets me in, right?"
"No, that's not good enough. You have to have two scores that add to more than 42."
"I do. I have two scores that add up to something that, when divided by 2, equals 30. Which makes those two scores, added together, more than 42."
"That's not good enough." (Honest... she told me this 3 times. I probably would have let it go if she had said "Yes, but that's not what we need," or "We need the actual scores," or even "Yes, it's absurd, but it's a requirement.")
Sigh. Now I have the thrill of getting my ACTs or SATs from the college testing board, expedited. More red tape, more red numbers in my bank account. I never, ever want to hear anyone complain about the bureaucracy within the company at which they work. Unless they work for the government, or they want to hear 3 hours of "I can top that" stories.
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